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John Winthrop’s 
Defeat. 

By Jean Kate Ludlum, 


Ledger Library. 
No. 46. 


Author of “Under A Cloud. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PERARD. 



NEW YORK: 

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H¥ 

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JOHN WINTHROP’S DEFEAT. 












-•A V 



JOHN WINTHROP'S DEFEAT 


'% Nooel. 



JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

'\ 


Author of “ Under A Cloud f “ Under Oathf etc. 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PER ARB. 





|/v 


NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 


PUBLISHERS. 


THE LEDGER LIBRARY: ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. 46 
OCTOBER 1, 1891. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N, Y., POST OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER. 


4 



COPYRIGHT, 1891 , 

BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


{All rights reserved.) 


PHE88 or 

THE NEW YORK LEDGE*, 
J*EW YORK, 



John Winthrop’s Defeat. 


CHAPTER I. 

AT FIRE ISLAND. 

The things we do 

We do ; we’ll wear no mask as if we blushed. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

HE Banjo slid over the beach 
water and up to the pier-steps, 
the young man at the prow 
bringing her “ to ” like some 
sensate thing that knew her 
duty. A few idlers down from 
the hotel stood by, awaiting the 
arrival of the afternoon steamer 
bringing the mail and such guests as fate might 
send. These turned to watch the disembarking 



8 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 


of the sailing-party, anything being idly interest- 
ing upon such an exquisite day, with the sapphire 
sky and the amber and green and gold of the 
ocean. 

“ By George !” murmured Harry Dillingham 
to his companion, removing the cigar from his 
lips in surprised admiration. “ I say, old boy, 
who is that magnificent woman in the gray boat- 
ing-suit, with the gold anchor on her sleeve and 
the pennon around her cap ? Phew ! You have 
a beauty here, Bensonhurst !” 

His companion shrugged his shoulders signi- 
ficantly, knocking the ashes from his cigar against 
the pier-railing. 

“ Your ignorance proclaims your sojourn in the 
wilderness, Dillingham,” was the lazy rejoinder. 
“ Every one who is any one or has been any- 
where this season knows Mrs. Graham. She 
carries a fortune in her finger-rings and a nabob’s 
ransom in her necklace. None of your milk-and- 
water beauties, either. There is a power of 
wisdom in that little dark head, let me tell you. 
You are bound to be at your best in her society. 
Her husband adores her.” 

“ She has a husband, then ? Is he here ?” 


At Fire Island, 


9 


“ Of course. One of the lavish sort, you know. 
Spends cash like water. Their house on the 
Avenue is magnificent. No shoddy ; blue blood 
straight through. Surely, you have heard of the 
great house of Graham? They have been 
abroad, he and his wife. They just returned 
this summer, and have spent the months at this 
island. But that’s enough for now. She’s com- 
ing up.” 

He turned toward the woman in question, as 
she was assisted to the pier, a tall, high-bred 
gentleman standing before her bare-headed, his 
cigar consigned to Neptune, as he added, smil- 
ing : 

“ No need to ask if you have enjoyed the sail, 
Mrs. Graham. Your face tells its story.” 

She smiled dazzlingly. Her lifted eyes, even 
in that clear light, were the even color of violets. 
She dangled a bunch of sea-weed in one hand, 
careful that the water should not drip upon her 
dress. The sunset struck gold through the 
brown of her hair, under the pretty cap. 

“ We have had such a delightful sail,” she 
said, “ that my face would be a craven not to 


IO 


John Winthrop s Defeat . 


show it, Mr. Bensonhurst. The Banjo is well 
named.. It is the music of motion.” 

“ Priestly handles the ropes as deftly as the 
literal banjo strings,” added Bensonhurst. “ May 
I have the pleasure of making my friend known 
to you? Mr. Harry Dillingham, Mrs. Graham. 
Dillingham’s been tramping through the forests 
of Maine this summer, and only now comes to 
Fire Island, so he says, from pure friendship for 
me, which — I doubt. To descend from the kill- 
ing of deer to the killing of dolphin for some 
other fellow’s sake isn’t the nineteenth century 
code. Here comes the steamer. The Zingara, 
by Jove ! Wonder what’s happened to the other? 
Are you expecting any one out, Mrs. Graham ?” 

“ No one,” said Mrs. Graham, with supreme 
conviction. “ Most of my friends are at Mount 
Desert or the Thousand Islands or — Europe. 
My husband and I came here to watch the sail- 
ing of ships, instead of spending the summer 
where dress is set by Fashion’s decree. One 
needs rest after the winter, not fashion. So the 
surf here and the light-house— and the coast- 
guard — and sands — ” 

The brilliant smile that came and went instan- 


At Fire Is lari d. 


1 1 

taneously, but was like sunlight upon her face, 
finished the sentence eloquently. 

“ And sailing!” added Bensonhurst, with his 
significant uplifting of the eye-brows. “ Espe- 
cially the arrival of the Zingara y with her pas- 
sengers, Mrs. Graham !” 

“ Yes,” replied Mrs. Graham, absently, her 
eyes on the approaching steamer, slowly 
swinging the sea-weed to and fro, yet never 
splashing her gown. “ Everything here is very 
restful and charming, Mr. Bensonhurst !” 

The party from the sail-boat were gathered 
about them, having alighted, and were also 
awaiting the arrival of the Fire Island steamer. 
Mrs. Graham was conspicuous among them for 
her beauty and grace. 

“ Unless I am mistaken,” Ninette Bradley said 
turning to Mrs. Graham, “ your husband is on 
the steamer, Alecia. There is scarcely ever any 
mistaking him, is there ? He is such a magnifi- 
cent man !” 

Alecia Graham shook her head and turned her 
face with one of those swift, transfiguring smiles, 
upon her friend. She appreciated praise of her 
husband. 


12 


John Win t hr of s Defeat. 


“You are not mistaken, Ninette. Harold is 
upon the steamer. He went to the city this 
morning on business. Do you think that I would 
have gone without him — even in the Banjo — this 
afternoon, had he been here ?” 

Ninette laughed. She moved a trifle away 
from Alecia’s swinging sea-weed. She abhorred 
a soiled toilet or a speck upon her gown. 

The Zingara , making more fuss and splatter 
than an ocean steamer, was dashing and splashing 
through the amber and green and blue water- 
lights, fringing her bow with foam and leaving a 
wide wake of seething bubbles as she neared the 
pier where the hotel guests were standing. 
Those who recognized friends on the little 
steamer fluttered handkerchiefs in welcome, or 
waved white hands in the sunset glow, laughing 
and chatting, waiting for them to come. 

The blue eyes of Mrs. Graham were penetrat- 
ing, and they were steadily regarding the noisy 
Zingara as she ploughed the golden water-lights. 
She recognized her husband among those on 
deck just forward of the cabin, but, her eyes 
being keen with love, she also recognized that 
he was unusually excited and pale. 


At Fire Island. 


13 


The man whom this woman was watching, 
saw her as quickly as she saw him. He never 
failed to single out this one woman in any crowd 
where she might be. He lifted his hat as ^hey 
came nearer, and he perceived that she saw him. 
There was not a trace of color in his face, and 
his black eyes burned like coals from its pallor, 
restlessly, as though he were haunted by some 
dread. 

Alecia stepped a little back from her friends. 
She was at one side of the gang-plank where the 
steamer stopped, and waited for her husband to 
come to her. The color came and went in her 
face ; her eyes, too, were burning with nervous 
excitement. 

Mr. Graham sprang lightly on the pier, ere 
the plank was thrown out, and again lifting his 
hat courteously to her and her companions, 
greeting them with a word or smile, here and 
there, turned with her up the pier toward the 
hotel. 

“ Was it warm in the city, Harold ?” 

“ Very warm, Alecia — suffocating. It is like 
champagne to breathe this air from the ocean. 


H 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


Let us go down to the beach, if you are not 
fatigued.” 

“ I am not fatigued, Harold. Shall we go to 
the pavilion or along the sands — ” 

“ Oh, along the sands,” he said, restlessly, 
keeping his eyes resolutely from meeting hers. 
“ A long distance on the sands, Alecia, where I 
can have you to myself. Then — ah ! — ” he broke 
off suddenly. “ How can I tell you, Alecia?” 

She was startled, but commanded her face and 
voice. Was it not her duty to help him and not 
hinder when need should come ? Still idly 
swinging the sea-weed, remembering that many 
eyes were upon them, she paused to rearrange a 
fold of her dress, and in that one instant, con- 
quered the trembling of her lips. 

“ If there is anything that you should tell me, 
Harold,” she said, steadily and sweetly, “ you 
need not fear. Nothing can hurt me — much — 
while I have you !” 

That wonderful smile of hers was on her face 
as she lifted it to his as they passed along the 
covered walk, around the hotel piazza and out 
on the other side toward the beach. There 
were groups here and there on the piazza, read- 


At Fire Island ’ 


15 


ing or talking or idly watching the light of the 
fading sunset upon the water and the glimmer of 
sails in the distance against the heavens. These 
the two must greet or exchange with them light 
words of compliment. 

“ There have so many ships passed to-day,” 
she said, mechanically, not to allow silence to 
fall upon them. “ So many ships, Harold — but 
they all go by ; they never stop or stay.” 

“ Yes,” he said bitterly, commanding his voice 
by a powerful effort. “ Everything passes, 
Alecia, like the ships.” 

She shook her head, forcing herself to smile ; 
but the old light would not come with the part- 
ing lips. 

“Not everything, Harold. Love never drifts 
by when once it finds harbor. The winds and 
the currents cannot move it ! Its anchor sinks 
so deeply in the heart, Harold, that only a dead 
heart yields it up.” 

He turned upon her in sudden fierceness. His 
burning eyes flamed into hers, but she would not 
falter. 

“You have never been tried,” he said, hoarsely. 

“Try me,” she said. 


i6 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 


But he made no answer, and she could not 
speak further with the growing fear in her heart; 
and so in silence they descended the steps of the 
pavilion and struck out upon the sands, where 
the surf hissed and seethed with the lifting and 
falling of the breakers. 

The sand was heavy, and they moved slowly 
along, she with the dangling sea-weed, he with 
his clenched hands, the soft lights upon them, 
the ocean and the ships just beyond. They 
turned the bend in the beach and were alone, so 
far as curious eyes could see or curious ears 
catch any word not meant for them. Then 
Harold Graham stopped and faced his wife. He 
placed some marvelous restraint upon himself — 
for he was a passionate man — and when he dis- 
engaged the sea-weed from her fingers, letting 
it fall unheeded upon the sands, his touch was 
very gentle. Both her hands he held in his, and 
drawing her to him so, he laid them upon his 
breast, his eyes upon hers. 

“ Alecia !” 

“ Harold !” 

“ My darling, you believe that I love you ?” 

“ Perfectly.” 


YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN TRIED!” HE SAID, HOARSELY . — See Pd(je 15. 




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At Fire Island \ 


1 7 


“ You told me back there to try you. I shall 
try you infinitely/' 

Terror was growing upon her. Her startled 
eyes would not retain the brave spirit she sought 
to hold. Her lips would tremble, do as she 
would, as she answered, softly : 

“ Yes, Harold." 

“ Alecia!" he cried, letting her hands fall and 
turning despairingly from her toward the one or 
two sails far down on the horizon. “ Alecia ! 
You cannot dream what it is ! How can I tell 
you ?" 

He was frightening her more than he realized. 
But she crowded down her fear and responded : 

“ Harold, my dearest, you may safely trust in 
me. What have you to tell?" 

He looked down upon her as she clung to him, 
and smiled with a bitterness deeper than words. 
She did not know what it was she said. Some 
men might affirm that the blow fallen upon him 
was not so bad after all with this exquisite face 
and steady eyes and musical voice his own. 
Some men! To him it was infinitely worse 
because the blow must also fall upon her. 
Nevertheless it was sweet to have her clinging 


i8 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


to him and assuring him that he could trust her 
— very sweet. 

“Alecia,” he said; his voice was perfectly 
steady now, for his manhood demanded that he 
should be brave and strong and true to her, 
“ You have been the sweetest of women always. 
You are brave, too; and you love me. So far, 
in our married life, 1 have given you everything 
you could desire that money could buy. Now 
— I cannot. 1 have not one penny in all the 
world that is mine !” 

She sighed. The tense lines of her face 
relaxed ; her hands upon his arm were quite 
steady. She had feared something so much 
worse — something unknown, but something so 
different, that this was a relief. 

“ Is that all, Harold?” 

He fell back from her, letting her hands fall 
from his arm. Amazement was upon every 
feature of his face. Then he recovered himself, 
believing that she did not understand. 

“ All, Alecia ? Is it not quite enough ? Do 
you comprehend that I say that we have not one 
penny in the world to live upon — or die upon ; 
not one penny ! Is not that enough ? Beggars — 


At Fire Island. 


l 9 


cast upon the world with nothing but creditors 
clamoring about me — and you ! Is this all ?” 

“ But my money, Harold ?” How calm she was ! 
Surely she did not realize what it meant to be 
penniless. “ Can we not manage upon that until 
better times are for us? You will retrieve your- 
self; you could not stay crushed. Your brave 
heart would never admit that, dearest/’ 

He groaned, again turning his face from her 
eyes. 

“ Your money, Alecia? Your money was in 
with mine, and has gone, too. I believed it per- 
fectly safe, this last investment, and put every 
penny into it — every one ! The house closed 
to-day, though no one outside is aware of it ; 
and as I shall give up everything, I cannot meet 
the demand. I shall be weighed to the earth 
with liabilities. I shall drag you down as well. 
But, of it all, the bitterest is that your money is 
gone through me. The house is yours, Alecia. 
it was bought and made over to you when there 
was no hint of failure. And your jewels are 
yours. Were you not accustomed to the luxuries 
of our home you might call this a fortune ; 


20 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


nevertheless it is not half equal to the fortune 1 
lost for you.” 

She smiled very softly, taking his hand in both 
of hers and leaning her cheek against it. 

“ I love beautiful things,” she said. “ What 
woman does not ? But, after all, I can be happy 
without them, Harold. Having each other and 
our health and brave hearts, should we not feel 
that we are blest ? Whatever you did with my 
money you did for the best, I am assured. The 
one thing that I regret is that every demand 
cannot be met. Of course we will give up the 
house ; that will surely realize a good deal and 
may help you. The jewels I will keep because 
— you gave them to me, and because — ” how 
steadily she spoke — “ because there is no reason 
why I should give them up. You think that I 
do not comprehend this, Harold. I may not 
know all that this means, but I am certain that 
I have you, and have no fear. I can be happy 
in but one room at a time. Our home is beauti- 
ful, but 1 felt always that I could be myself 
just as well in a less luxurious place. You must 
not despair. 1 shall not let you despair.” 

Twilight was settling over the water. The 


At Fire Island. 


21 


dinner hour was almost at hand and they must 
return to the hotel and to their friends, to the 
light chit-chat and laughter and songs and care- 
less hearts and bright eyes, and hide this blow 
for the one night at least. 

“You must not despair, Harold, dearest,” 
added Alecia presently, they two standing alone 
upon the sands with the purples and lilac and 
pink of twilight falling around them and the 
hoarse murmnr of the sea at their feet ; afar off, 
against the lifting rose of moonrise, a white sail 
glimmered. Her face, lifted steadfastly to his, 
was touched with some indescribable softness of 
light and shadow from the world around them. 
The golden anchor on her sleeve caught reflec- 
tion from the moonrise and glowed against the 
soft gray of her gown like an emblem of hope. 
“We will face the future and — conquer it, 
Harold !” 

It was a question as well as a comforting assur- 
ance, for she knew how much this fashionable 
world was to him, and how he demanded luxury 
where she would force herself to be happy with- 
out it. 


22 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


“We will agree to be true to each other, 
dearest/’ he made answer, very gravely. 

They turned back toward the hotel, feeling 
that they were beginning a new life — an 
unknown life — from that time. Alecia, pausing a 
moment in the pavilion, her hand resting lightly 
upon her husband’s arm, gazed across the pur- 
ple black of the ocean, along the line of silver 
heralding moonrise, to where the distant ships 
seemed stationary so far away against the light- 
ing heaven. 

“ And are they laden with hopes, too,’’ she 
thought, wistfully, “ and sailing away ?” 


Gathering Storm, 


23 


CHPTER II. 

GATHERING STORM. 

Then the bitter sea 
Inexorably pushed between us both, 

And sweeping up the ship with my despair 
Threw us out as a pasture to the stars. 

— Aurora Ltigh . 

“ Any news, Leland ?” 

Gregory Bensonhurst and his friend Harry 
Dillingham were greeting one of the Zingaras 
passengers, a tall, fair-haired young man with a 
delightfully good-humored face, who was enthu- 
siastically shaking hands with Dillingham, 
protesting his pleasure at seeing him safe 
returned from his camping excursion. 

Lane Leland shook his head, shrugging his 
shoulders, and laughed. 

“ There’s never any news at this season,” he 
said, lightly. “ Everything’s dead in the city — 
crowded out to breathe, you know. Deuced 
unpleasant on the street. I went down to get a 
whiff of business and found it asleep. Suffocated ! 


24 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


Money too heavy to lift even for the having. 
By the way, though — ” he paused suddenly with 
a mysterious face. “ There is news, Gregory, 
though I’ll not vouch for the truth. A bad piece 
of news, too, if it is true. I’m inclined to doubt 
it, though, because common sense prompts me 
to doubt. Nevertheless, I heard ” — he spoke in 
a cautious tone — “ I heard in Wall ‘street to-day 
that there’s a big failure on the carpet. The last 
one, too, that you would guess.” 

“ Whose ?” 

Lane Leland shrugged his shoulders again and 
raised his eyebrows. 

“ I hope it isn’t true,” he said, gravely. “ I 
don’t believe it is — I simply won t believe it until 
it is proved beyond doubt — but I heard that 
Graham’s gone under.” 

“ Impossible !” Gregory Bensonhurst fell 
back a pace or two, pushing his cap up from his 
face blank with amazement. “ Somebody lied to 
you, Leland. Graham’s sound as a brick ; no 
flaws in that firm ! At the head, you know — 
worth millions. His wife’s diamonds alone are 
worth a fortune.” 

“ Well,” again Lane Leland lifted his brows 


Gathering Storm. 


25 


and shrugged his shoulders, with a gesture of 
one hand, as though he would set aside any 
responsibility in the matter ; “ I can’t say, Ben- 
sonhurst ! It was only a rumor, but, I tell you, 
it gave me the shakes. If such a house as that 
goes under, who will be safe ? I, for one, am 
utterly unable to earn my living, and I’d fight 
tooth and nail for what I possess. No poverty 
for me, thank you ! I like 1 the good things of 
life’ in full morocco, gold edges!” 

Gregory Bensonhurst scarcely heeded him ; 
he stood as though rooted to the spot, his eyes 
upon him in dazed surprise, unable to speak, the 
consequences of such a failure flashing electric 
lines through his mind. Graham, the proud, 
aristocratic, luxuriously generous man — his 
friend — gone down in a crash ! Graham, the 
head of one of the wealthiest firms in the city, 
with a million at the scratch of a pen. Graham, 
the favorite in society, at the club, on Wall 
Street — everywhere — Graham — could he realize 
it ? — failed ! 

He would not believe it; it was some hoax of 
Leland’s ; Leland was always up to some joke. 


26 


John Winthrof s Defeat. 


He shook his head resolutely, and a flash dawned 
in his lazy eyes. # 

“ Come, now, Leland,” he said, rather sternly, 
turning away, “ I’ll take a good deal from you> 
but I will not believe this. It is out of all proba- 
bility. Graham is as sound to-day as he was last 
year, you know. He could not fail. Why, he 
has millions of dollars, man ! Every creditor 
would be down upon him like tigers, if this were 
true. It is not so, I am satisfied. I tell you, 
Dillingham, he has one of the shrewdest busi- 
ness heads on his shoulders of any man in the 
city !” 

Leland’s eyes flashed wrathfully. 

“ I don’t blame you for taking it roughly, Ben- 
sonhurst,” he said. “ I couldn’t believe it, either, 
at first, but you needn’t come down on me for it. 
I didn’t originate the talk. If it is true, we will 
know it soon enough ; if it isn’t — well,” that 
suggestive lifting of his shoulders and setting- 
aside movement of the hands, as he also turned 
from them to the group of chatting ladies at the 
end of the pier, “ all that I can say is that I hope 
to the deuce it isn't true.” 

“ But, whatever you do, Leland,” Bensonhurst 


Gathering Storm . 


27 


laid his hand detainingly upon his friend’s arm, 
as he was passing him, “ whatever you do, 
don’t tell this to any one else, until we know. 
Graham and his wife are here, you know, and it 
would not be pleasant to arouse such a sus- 
picion.” 

Lane Leland's indignant face interrupted what- 
ever else Bensonhurst might have said in his 
zealous defense of his friend. Lane Leland’s 
flashing eyes were not particularly good-natured 
now, as he looked into the opposite lazy eyes of 
brown. 

“Whatever I may be, Bensonhurst,” he said 
swiftly, withdrawing his arm from under the 
detaining hand with new hauteur, “ I am not a 
fool ! I was born with ordinary common sense, 
I believe. If Graham is never hurt worse than 
I hurt him, he will live and die pretty free from 
harm.” 

“ Don’t be angry with me, Lane,” said Gregory 
Bensonhurst, quietly. “ I would only save them 
unpleasantness.” 

“ Well, you need not bite my head off defend- 
ing them, anyway,” retorted Leland, somewhat 
mollified. He was too good-natured to long 


28 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


remain angry with any one. “ It isn’t my way 
to walk meekly into the lion’s mouth if I know it, 
Bensonhurst !” 

“ Leland is one of the best-hearted of fellows,” 
said Dillingham, as he and Gregory Bensonhurst 
walked up to the hotel piazza. “ He meant no 
harm. If this Graham is the man you say, it 
isn’t probable that this report is true, although 
the financial world is shaky just at present. His 
wife is a remarkably handsome woman !” 

“ But I cannot help thinking,” said Bensonhurst 
uneasily, “ that Graham did look pretty well 
done up when he came out to-night. I am afraid 
to believe either way. What a blow his failure 
would be to his wife ; but she has a fortune in 
her own right. Graham would never lose that 
for her. Undoubtedly that is solid, and could 
carry them over even deeper sloughs than could 
come to him with the worst of failures.” 

Considerably cheered by this conclusion, the 
two passed out upon the oce^n side of the piazza. 

Just then, pretty Miss Bess Catherwood was 
querying as she leaned beside one of the posts of 
the pier, her black eyes wicked with the merry 
heart beneath : 


Gathering Storm. 


2 9 


“You look so wrathful, Mr. Leiand. What 
was the matter in the city, that you came out 
with such an air?” 

She was one of the sailing-party, and was 
tarrying to watch the sunset effects upon the 
water, and the flashing out of the light-house 
lamps ere she went in to dress for dinner. Pretty 
Miss Catherwood was inclined to be late and 
never in a hurry ; but what could one urge 
against this element of character, when she 
declared that life was altogether too short, any- 
way. 

“ And you are so cool and charming, that I am 
already rested,” said Leiand, smiling. 

She was such a charming woman, and so pretty 
in her dainty buff-and-blue boating-dress, with 
the blue anchor upon her breast and her tip-tilted 
cap atop of the curly black hair, her yellow ties 
with their blue ribbons, one white hand twirling 
the buff parasol with its great blue bow of rib- 
bon, round and round just over one spot in the 
boards of the pier. 

“Oh, dear! Always pretty words! Why 
don’t you say right out that you are mad as mad 
can be, Mr. Leiand ? I’ll let you.” 


30 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


He laughed, taking the restless parasol from 
her hand as tenderly as though it were worth its 
weight in gold. He was in love with wicked 
little Bess Catherwood, as that young lady knew 
quite well. She used this knowledge to his dire 
disadvantage, too, very often. 

“ Because,” he made reply, “ I am not mad 
any longer. I am very happy, Miss Cather- 
wood.” 

“Well,” she eyed him critically, not flinching 
from his eloquent eyes. “ I believe you do look 
better-natured, Mr. Leland ! You came out with 
Mr. Graham, didn’t you? What a handsome 
man he is ! I don’t wonder that his wife adores 
him. And the lovely, lovely things he lavishes 
on her — the dresses and diamonds — such dresses 
and such hats ? I don’t see why he didn’t fall in 
love with me instead of Alecia Field. I’d have 
been so dreadfully glad to marry him — for his 
money.” 

Leland frowned. If he were happy, as he had 
just protested, his looks belied it. He possessed 
considerable of this world’s good things, but it 
would not be possible for him to lavish “ such 
dresses and such hats ” upon his wife, when he 


Ga thering Storm . 


3i 


should marry, as Harold Graham showered upon 
Alecia. Tormenting Miss Catherwood was for- 
ever declaring she would never, never, never 
marry without unlimited wealth. 

“ But suppose that you should happen to 
marry a man who lost his money — every cent — 
afterward. What, then, Miss Catherwood?” 

She puckered up her brows and opened wide 
her eyes bewilderingly. She screwed her 
pretty red mouth into an emphatic protest. 

“ Oh, but he wouldn’t, you know, Mr. Leland ! 
He never could. I’d make him solemnly promise 
that he wouldn’t. Because ” — she uttered the 
words with very pretty deliberation — “ if he 
should, I would simply hate him. Why, of 
course I’d hate him. I couldn’t help it,” she 
added, as though the enormity of other conclu- 
sion were beyond her power of comprehension. 
“ And in the meantime, as the sunset is gone and 
it is late, I must go in and dress for dinner. I’ll 
get not a morsel if I am too late.” 

Lane Leland smiled, in spite of his anger. He 
was always either very happy or very miserable 
with this girl. He loitered beside her as they 
walked up the pier, still carrying the furled 


32 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


parasol, with its knot of broad ribbon. They 
were the last of the idlers upon the pier, for it 
wanted but a few minutes of the dinner-hour, 
and the light was revolving in the tower out to 
westward, and only the tenderness of twilight 
touched the sand and sea and sky beyond that 
line of sullen cloud. The world was so peaceful, 
how could one’s heart retain tumult? 

“ After dinner, will you go with me to watch 
the moonrise upon the sands, Miss Catherwood ? 
I have something that I wish to tell you — some- 
thing that I must say to-night,” said Lane, as 
they paused at the foot of the staircase. 

A slight flush was upon his face. Miss Cather- 
wood knew quite well what it was he would 
say ; and it would be a pleasant story for her to 
hear — she knew that, too ; but wicked Miss 
Catherwood could not live without teasing even 
those whom she loved, and she could not refrain 
from tormenting this man. 

“ After dinner ?” How slow and soft her 
voice was, and what a charming pucker came 
between the level black, eyebrows ! “ Why, 

after dinner— let me see — I am almost afraid 


Gathering Storm . 


33 


that I have an engagement, Mr. Leland ; but — 1 
will see and — let you know.” 

He was, manlike, too blind to know that this 
was her acceptance of his invitation. He was 
too angry to ask. 

“ You are always unkind to me !” he protested, 
wrathfully. 

“ Then why don’t you leave me’ alone?” 
demanded Miss Catherwood, swiftly, her voice 
struck with a sharpness born of contrite tears. 

And a rustle of skirts, the flash of a buff-and- 
blue gown, the click of light boot-heels upon the 
stairs, and Lane Leland comprehended that he 
and Miss Catherwood had once more quarreled. 

“ What is a fellow to do ?” he demanded of 
himself, with great fierceness, as he followed 
slowly up the stairs to his room. “ She puts one 
always at a disadvantage. If she doesn’t want to 
marry me, let her say so — when I ask her. I 
haven’t asked her yet !” 

He continued exceedingly wrathful during his 
toilet ; and went down to dinner fully determined 
to have no more to do with such a wicked 
coquette, but to fall in love directly with Anita 
Grant ! 


34 


John Winthrof s Defeat . 


The tables were as lively as usual with bright 
eyes and wit and laughter, mingled with the clat- 
ter of dishes and the distant thunder of the surf 
across the sand-hills. For who among them 
could believe that brilliant Alecia Graham and 
her handsome husband, liveliest of them all, hid 
a wolf under their cloak of pride, and would van- 
ish out of that gay world as a star that falls with 
a flash of light into darkness and oblivion. For 
not one of them saw the anxiety under light 
laughter. The cry of the ocean should be 
drowned in gayety ; the beat of happy hearts 
should defy the beat of breakers ! Moonlight 
was over the world ; the stars were steadfast ; 
the sea a lake of molten silver breaking to glis- 
tening fragments along the sands. Time enough 
to be terrified when the storm should break 1 
“We will bear our sorrows, Harold,” Alecia 
said, slowly and bravely, as she sat in a low 
chair by the open window of their room, some 
time later, facing the ocean. “ Because trouble 
has come to us, is no reason why we should lay 
it upon others. Besides — ” she turned for a 

moment from the exquisite world without to 
smile upon her husband, leaning back in his chair 


Gathering Storm . 


35 


with his hands clasped behind his head and his 
eyes seeing nothing before him — “ beside, it helps 
one wonderfully to laugh when things go con- 
trary. I feel a great deal stronger for to-morrow, 
after the music and happiness down stairs. One 
is ashamed to be gloomy, you know, when every 
one else is bright, and so one has to polish one’s 
face and voice and manner until the shine is 
sort of rubbed in, you see !” 

Her husband made no reply. She expected 
none, and turned again to the window and the 
shimmering silver sea, the round moon riding 
royally in the upper ocean ; only a solitary sail 
in the far distance struck into shadow as it sailed 
away. She clasped her hands around her knees, 
her hair let down about her shoulders, and 
nodded sturdily. 

Still no reply. Still she expected none. The 
solitary sail down on the horizon had turned, and 
the moonlight struck it into gold. Her eyes 
were upon it. 

“ I shall go with you to the city in the morn, 
ing, if you will take me, Harold,” she said, pres- 
ently. The sail was out of sight. Before her, 
beyond the low sand-hills, was only that great 


3 ^ 


John Win th r op' s Def ea t. 


vast waste of silver, with a path along it that 
looked fashioned for a heavenly road. The 
moonlight was full in her face. “ There need be 
no excuse to these people. We have few friends 
here. Business calling you away is all that we 
will need to explain, and I go with you from 
choice. What is it to them ? Together we can 
arrange our actions far better than apart, when 
we know the worst, and begin the new life. You 
have so many friends — ” 

Her husband interrupted her now. He took 
down his hands from behind his head and leaned 
forward, his elbows upon his knees, his eyes upon 
her face, as he answered slowly, striking one 
hand lightly with the other to emphasize his 
words. She turned her face to his, waiting. 

“ Even yet you do not comprehend this thing, 
Alecia! You would soften the blow for me, but 
instead of doing so, you make it infinitely harder, 
because you force me to explain added humilia- 
tion. I have many friends — yes — to-day. To- 
morrow there is not one will help me. When 
the thing is known, and that my liabilities far 
exceed my power to meet them, every one will 
clamor for his due. Not one of my creditors 


Gathering Clouds. 


37 


will allow me to compromise or again enter busi- 
ness. I should not, if they would ! I could not 
endure to feel that what I should gain would be 
swallowed up ere it were mine. I could not 
endure to meet these men every day. I hate 
every one of them ; I hate myself more. When 
all is over, we will go away, and begin life in a 
new city. I have decided that. California is an 
open field for one who is ambitious. We will go 
there. In a new country I will make a new 
name. Never here.” 

The slim fingers around her knees tightened 
their hold. The red lips pressed down one upon 
another for a moment. The violet eyes dilated 
ere her emotion was conquered. Then she said 
very softly and sweetly, her voice like music 
through the room, a note of the sea’s deeper 
undertone touching it : 

“ Surely they will not be so hard upon you, 
Harold ! They know your reputation. They 
will be lenient. When they know that you give 
up everything to them — ” 

“ But that any one would do, Alecia,” he inter- 
rupted her again, irritably. He was losing his 
genial nature under this trial “ It is what any 


38 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 


man should do. But even so, I am heavily in 
debt, and the heaviest creditor is an implacable 
man. He would not yield an inch. I would not 
ask him.” 

“ Then you shall not ask him, Harold. As 
soon as possible we will leave these troubles. 
Surely your wife will not be the one to deepen 
your troubles. If I cannot help you,” (she was 
thinking- swiftly how she might help him) “ at 
least I will not hinder you. The West is broad. 
There are too many people in New York any 
way. One hasn’t room to retrieve one’s self 
should there be need. Every inch is crowded* 
It is like an ant-hill — with not a grain for one 
newcomer or hope for one slipped down. We 
will go away.” 

She said nothing of what she must give up to 
yield to this wish of his. She was not the woman 
to force her griefs upon another. She smiled, 
and her voice was careless, her husband thought 
bitterly. Nevertheless he knew that there was 
sadness behind it, and it only increased his irri- 
tability, as he felt aggrieved that she should 
not be aggrieved. She could not — in spite of 
his effort to explain — she could not quite com- 


Breakers 


39 


prehend their situation, he thought. From 
luxury to labor— for he was very despairing in 
thought — from palace to cottage ; strangers in a 
strange land ! 


CHAPTER III. 

BREAKERS. 

That day. 

Too deeply sunk in craterous sunsets now 
For you or me to dig it up alive. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

The cloud lying so low at sunset rose as twi- 
light deepened to night, and gathering to itself 
the lower vapors, came along the nearer heavens 
until it was a mass of midnight swallowing up 
the stars, the moon, the heavens. There was fire 
in its midst, and thunder that rolled in vaster 
volumes, rumbling like Vulcan’s hammer-echoes. 
Destruction rode riotously in its heart. 

It was flood tide at midnight, and as the 
waters beat higher and higher up the sands and 
throbbed like some great heart against the pier, 


40 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


the anchored boats lifting and falling and tossing 
like living things upon it, the black vapors 
overhead, overcharged, broke upon the world 
beneath in a torrent of wind and rain, shot 
through and through with lightning tongues. 

Most of the guests at the Surf Hotel were 
awakened by the storm, and many of them made 
hasty toilets and gathered in the parlor for 
companionship. Alecia Graham had not fallen 
asleep, and, at the first sound of thunder, rose 
very softly not to rouse her husband, and 
donning a loose wrapper of pale silk, she seated 
herself at the window to watch the breaking of 
the storm. 

The clouds had not yet swallowed the moon, 
which was riding the heavens like some witch 
at strike with the elements of an infernal world, 
the hurrying scuds blown from the greater mass 
of cloud whirling across her face and fleeing 
away, tearing at her, flaunting beside her, yet 
ever growing larger and more dense as the war- 
ship of the storm advanced up the sea of heaven. 
On the sands below, just visible now and then 
beyond the sand-hills, as the moon conquered 


Breakers . 


4 * 


the scuds, the white surf gleamed ghostily, rank 
upon rank. 

The woman at the window, in her trailing 
silken gown, sat fascinated, with her hands 
clasped upon the ledge before her, her face lumi- 
nated or darkened by the shining or dimming 
of the moon. There was no fear in her heart, 
only deep awe and a nameless something like the 
touch of a heavenly spirit. She was unconscious 
that her husband had wakened and was watch- 
ing her under his half-closed lids. She was 
unconscious that she was an inspiration to him, 
or that the bitterness of his soul was touched by 
the sweetness of her presence. Like the true 
woman she was, she was thinking of him, not of 
herself. She loved him, and knew that he suf- 
fered intensely because of the trouble fallen 
upon him. He was so proud and loved luxury 
so thoroughly that failure was worse than death. 
But she knew, also, that he was too noble and 
too manly to seek death for relief, as many 
might. 

Presently, in a lull in the thunder, he addressed 
her : 

“ Alecia !” he said, quietly. 


42 


John Winthrop s Defeat. 


She turned to him at once. Even in the dark- 
ness he knew that she was smiling upon him. 

“You are awake, Harold? What a terrible 
storm this is !” 

“ Yes,” he replied, waiting until another thun- 
der-peal died away, leaving the world strangely 
still, save for the roar of the surf. “ Terrible, 
Alecia, especially for any vessel unfortunate 
enough to be upon the water unprepared.” 

Once more she turned to the window, look- 
ing across the black sand-hills to the invisible 
roaring surf. 

“ I had not thought of that,” she said, an 
anxious note in her voice. 

“ You need not worry about it, dear,” he said, 
gently, catching this troubled tone. “ The coast- 
guard are able fellows.” 

A distant report of fire-arms interrupted him, 
and brought Alecia to her feet. He also started 
up and began hastily dressing. 

“ Some boat in distress,” he said, hurriedly. 
“ A pleasure or fishing-boat, probably, for that 
was a rifle-shot. A steamship would fire heavy 
guns and send up rockets.” 

“ What are you going to do, Harold ?” 


Breakers. 


43 


“ Come,” he said, “ we will go down-stairs, 
Alecia, and learn if there is danger. It may be 
nothing. I have frightened you, dearest !” 

He held the door open for her to pass through, 
and reached out his hand to her as she crossed 
the room from the window. 

“ It may only be some signal from the Gov- 
ernment House,” he said, smiling to reassure 
her. 

She placed her hand trustingly in his, and 
they passed out together, but the hand was a 
hand of ice and her heart was beating in terror. 
Her sensitive spirit was stirred by the proba- 
bility of danger to others. It was such a fearful 
night. 

They came upon excited groups in the hall 
and parlor, the ladies gathering at once around 
Alecia, as though there were some subtle 
strength and magnetism in her presence. Harold 
passed out upon the piazza with a few of the 
men, to learn what was possible of the threatened 
danger. 

“ A ticklish thing,” shouted George Priestly, 
turning aside from the burst of shrieking wind 
that struck across the pier, holding his hat on 


44 


John IVinthrop' s Defeat. 


with one hand and grasping the lapels of his 
coat with the other, that it should not be torn 
from him. “ A ticklish thing, now, I tell you, 
fellows, if it’s a small boat out there ! Those 
shots didn’t come from the coast side ; they’re 
off to leeward, and the coast-guard will have a 
hard time trying to save them. Pretty rocky, 
you know, out farther. Mighty little hope, I 
say. What is it, Banks ?” 

“ A yacht,” replied one of the hotel hands, 
hurrying past them across the piazza for lan- 
terns. Every one was alert, for a wreck was a 
terrible thing in such a storm. “ She’s down by 
the point. Been letting off rockets. Too far 
gone for that, though, now. Hardly a bit of her 
left whole. They’ll do what they can to save 
’em, but there ain’t much hope.” 

“ Let’s go down !” shouted Harold. “Perhaps 
we may be of service. They’ll need all of 
that they can get, God help them !” 

“ But we cannot go down there,” protested 
Charlie Brown, decidedly. “ We’ll blow across 
to Europe if we try.” 

“ Well, I don’t object to a free passage across!” 
retorted Harold, shortly. 


Breakers . 


45 


He was off ere he finished speaking, strug- 
gling, with his companions, with the sheets of 
rain and hail beating upon them. The sea had 
lifted itself in the might of the storm and was 
lashing close up under the plank walks along 
the sand, washing over their feet now and then 
as they fought their way. 

Alecia, with her friends in the parlor of the 
Surf Hotel, would indeed have been proud of 
her husband could she have known of his errand. 
But she did not know, and Ninette was clinging 
to her for courage, and a group surrounded her 
discussing the danger of a vessel upon the sea, 
and trembling under the terrible shocks of 
thunder roaring around them. 

Poor Bess Catherwood was as white as a ghost, 
and had long ago forgiven Leland, and would 
not allow him to stir from her side for a moment 
even to learn what was passing outside, but 
clung to him with her small hands, her terrified 
eyes now lifted to his, now close shut under their 
lids to keep out the lightning flashes. 

“ Oh, it’s just dreadful— dreadful— dreadful !” 
she would say, as a thunder-burst reverberated 
around and around the building, snatching her 


46 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


hands from his arm to cover her ears and cower 
still further down among the cushions of the 
great chair at the farthest end of the room from 
the windows. “ Why must we have thunder, 
showers, Mr. Leland ? Why can’t we have quiet 
rains instead? They’re bad enough, indeed, but 
this makes me wretched ! One might as well be 
at the mouth of a cannon and expect to be shot 
into pieces. I tell you it’s horrid, and I wont 
let you go outside that door! You must just 
keep right on telling me over and over that it will 
not 1 ast long, or I shall die, I tell you !” 

So what could he do but remain with her and 
comfort her, and think, in spite of her cowardice, 
that she was the sweetest and dearest of all 
women, and be absolutely happy knowing that 
she cared to detain him there, although it was 
his wish to go with his friends and do what he 
might, should there be need. 

But shudder as they would in the parlor, made 
brilliant with lights to deaden the lightning, 
huddled in groups, fearful of the thunder and 
lightning and sea, they did not dream of a drama 
enacted upon the wild beach with the clouds and 
lightning for a background and only lanterns for 


Breakers. 


4 7 


footlights. Had Alecia known, would her hands 
have been so steady or her voice so soft with its 
comforting? Would she have said that all was 
well even in that storm ? 

Far down on the beach the guests, the hotel- 
hands and the coast-guard were doing their best 
for a steam-yacht beating herself to pieces among 
the breakers and rocks just beyond. The yacht 
contained a pleasure party upon a fishing excur- 
sion caught in the storm and unable to keep off 
the coast, the fury of the storm having strained 
their machinery and broken the shaft. So there 
she was beating upon the rocks beyond the 
beach. Her bow was scarcely above the waves. 
Her stern was under water, and her passengers 
were crowded forward and clinging with the one 
instinct of life to the last hope. The small boat 
was of no use in that water, and if the coast-guard 
could not save them, there could come no hope. 
The rockets had ceased ; the shots also. 

In the terrible storm it was difficult to work, 
but the men on shore fought like heroes to 
render help to those clinging to the beating 
wreck. The first rocket attached to the life-line 
went astray, beaten aside by the furious rain and 


48 


John Win th rop's Defea t. 


wind ; but the second, well aimed, struck the 
bow, and the rope was caught. The work of 
rescue was under way, though but a few moments 
at most were left ere the boat must go down. 

One man was saved, scarcely breathing, from 
the fierce struggle through the breakers, but 
still alive ; another and another in the same condi- 
tion. Hope was reviving, though still death 
leaped to grasp them on all sides. For a time it 
was difficult to determine whether life or death 
would conquer in the struggle. But the men on 
the beach worked like madmen to save the men 
mad with fear in the midst of that boiling water. 
And then, the last man was fighting his way, 
buoyed up by his life-preserver, grasping the 
life-line as he rose and sank and rose again in 
the heart of the water. 

Harold Graham among the men on the beach 
was like a giant in his efforts to render assistance. 
He dashed, unmindful of himself, into the boiling 
breakers to drag the men to land as they strug- 
gled in. His companions scarcely recognized 
him, for the lover of luxury, the pet of fortune 
and society had never before been tried. That 
his own life might pay for his reckless bravery 


Breakers . 


49 


he never thought. He had no fear. He lacked 
the knowledge of the beach which the coast- 
guard possessed, but he was equal with them in 
courage and bravery. 

The last man was fighting his way to life 
through that sea of death. He was evidently 
greatly exhausted, for his efforts were feeble as 
he drew nearer into the light of the lanterns and 
the almost constant glare of the lightning. They 
shouted to cheer him, and were on the alert at 
the rope. But as he came in almost to the beach, 
the receding breakers beat him back. 

And then it was that the mills of the gods 
ground very slowly and exceedingly fine, casting 
into the balance the good or ill of Harold 
Graham’s life. For with his reckless disregard 
of self, pushing aside detaining hands ere any 
other could pass him, he dashed into the water 
and let the breakers lift and bear him out toward 
the man beyond, and struggled to grasp him that 
he might guide him to shore. And then, with 
an exclamation of horror, he let him go, drifting 
past him and farther out upon the black night of 
waters. For in the glare of lightning, with earth 


50 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


and heaven rent by thunder, and death beating 
about him, Graham recognized his heaviest cred- 
itor. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THROUGH BREAKERS. 

Strange, sweet smile 

That lived through all, as if one held a light 
Across a waste of waters. 

***** * * 

Not even Christ Himself 
Can save man else than as He holds man’s soul. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

To let him die! This man, who of all those 
against him on the morrow would be the hard- 
est ! He need not push him under, move his 
hands to harm, and — what could save him for his 
undoing. He would not be his murderer. Men 
could not look upon him and whisper that his 
hands were stained with blood. They would 
have sufficiently hard words against him. truly, 
but this they would not know. The breakers had 
washed him back, senseless, from his reach ; he 


Through Breakers. 


5i 


had struggled — how he had struggled ! — and 
yet he only saved him — dead ! They would still 
call him hero ; still cry of his bravery ! No man 
would know — not one ! 

One instant out of time ! One second out of 
millions of seconds ! The space of a hair on 
illimitable space ! But so grind the mills of 
the gods, very fine, proving the chaff from the 
grain. 

One instant. The men huddled upon the 
beach, waiting for the rescue, watching by the 
light of their lanterns and the lightning flare, 
called him a hero, battling there to save the last 
man from the wreck. The yacht was gone out 
of sight and the unconscious man in the black 
water had let go the life-line, though the life-pre- 
server still buoyed him up, with his pallid face 
lifting and falling in the shouting waves and 
seething foam. They held their lanterns aloft 
and shouted, and watched with the red lightning 
and the flashing of the light-house lamp in its 
revolutions. They could see the men at intervals, 
never for longer than a swift glimpse, but the 
man risking his life for the other was bravely 
fighting to save him. They could see that. 


52 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


A half-dozen men dashed in the water to drag 
the two in as a huge breaker lifted them high to 
fling them to the beach ; for a blow, such as that, 
would possibly mean death to both, and this man 
was proved too heroic to be dashed to death 
unaided. For the angel had conquered the 
demon in Harold Graham’s soul, and the one 
instant of struggle had intensified and ennobled 
him. 

As they dragged the two on the higher beach, 
out of reach of the breakers, the rescuer was 
scarcely more conscious than the rescued. It 
had been a terrible battle. He was drenched 
through and through, and his pallid face, with 
the black hair clinging to it, looked haggard 
under the shifting lights. 

“ Let’s take ’em to one of the cottages here,” 
suggested one of the men, “ till the storm is over. 
It’ll never do to try to get ’em to the hotel as 
they are !” 

This suggestion was acted upon immediately, 
and the tenants of the nearest cottage gave them 
ready admittance and assistance. Every one on 
the island was awake and fearful in that terrible 
storm. No one could sleep or rest with the roar 


Through Breakers. 


53 


in the heavens and the thunder of waters on the 
beach, the lightning glaring as though the 
heavens had opened with fire to swallow the 
world. 

But, interesting though it might be for Graham 
to be petted and flattered and cared for, it was 
but ten minutes at most ere he was thoroughly 
recovered and declared his intention of return- 
ing to the hotel in spite of every objection. 

*• My wife will be anxious,” he said, quite 
steadily and smiling. “ It is a rather unpleasant 
night in which to be out, and she will be certain 
to think that I have been offered as sacrifice to 
Neptune !” 

“ Nonsense,” retorted Gregory Bensonhurst, 
with prompt decision, doing his utmost to detain 
his friend, that he should be entirely recovered 
after his brave struggle. “We’ll send word up, 
Harold ! Do be sensible and wait till the storm 
passes, there’s a good fellow ! It is abating very 
much now.” 

But the “ good fellow ” would not be per- 
suaded. He shook his head, smiling. 

“ Don’t be ridiculous, Bensonhurst !” he said 
lightly. “ There is nothing the matter with me. 


54 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat . 


Come ! Mr. Earle is safely cared for here until 
morning and the rest of the party are all right, 
save for the wetting and the scare, and we’ll go 
up to the hotel. The Grants have been very 
gracious to this lot of shipwrecked sailors, but 
we’ll not infringe upon good nature. There is 
one thing, however, that 1 wish to say, and I 
shall think you no true friends of mine if you do 
not agree with me : It is that I wish you to 
promise — all of you, remember — that you will 
withhold from those who are not present to- 
night, that I saved Palmer Earle ! I have my 
reasons. They are good reasons, too, as you will 
acknowledge to-morrow. I cannot make the 
matter more clear to you now, but I must have 
your promise!” 

Gregory Bensonhurst looked at his friend as 
though he thought him bereft of his senses. He 
and Graham were alone for the moment, as the 
others prepared to go up to the hotel. His eyes 
were keen and steady, searching the other’s face ; 
but so were Graham’s eyes, and a new sternness 
was about his mouth. 

“ Come !” he added, impatiently. “ Don’t tell 
me so plainly that you are not my friend, Benson- 


Through Breakers . 


55 


hurst. 1 have my reasons for requesting this 
promise. You will understand — to-morrow.” 

“ Why not to-night, Harold ?” 

“ Because ” — Graham moved away irritably, a 
frown on his face — “ because to-night it is noth- 
ing to you, Bensonhurst. Come ! Give me your 
promise, will you ? Or shall I go without it and 
know that your friendship is not strong enough 
to stand trial ?” 

Gregory Bensonhurst laid, his hand upon the 
arm of his friend to detain him as he was passing 
to the door. His face was very grave. His 
memory was keen with the words of warning 
uttered by Leland the previous afternoon. Why 
should this man speak so strangely of to-mor- 
row ? 

“ Look here, Harold,” he said, quietly ; “ I call 
myself your friend. If it is a friend’s duty to 
give you this promise, I do so. You can trust 
me. And if ever there is other need to try my 
friendship — try me !” 

A peculiar change struck Harold Graham’s 
face, but he grasped the other’s hand warmly. 

“ Very well,” he said. “ I thank you, Benson- 


56 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


hurst. I shall try you sooner than you know, 
perhaps. Let us go/’ 

They joined the others in the hall and upon the 
piazza — a group of drenched men, with their 
coats well buttoned up about their throats and 
their hats pressed down close on their heads. 
Few would have recognized among them the 
half-dozen fashionable young men idling through 
the previous day. The yachting party were with 
them, save Palmer. Earle, the boat’s owner, and 
the one most severely injured. The storm had 
somewhat abated and they could reach the hotel 
without such difficulties as they met in starting 
out. They pretty well filled the cottage and were 
unwilling longer to trespass on the hospitality of 
the Grants. - Mr. Earle was well cared for and 
comfortably asleep, the dose of whiskey ordered 
for him leaving him little time before slumber. 
His friends could safely leave him and secure 
their own comfort at the hotel. 

They looked considerably mystified when 
informed of Graham’s wishes regarding his share 
in the rescue ; but most of them assented readily 
enough, with a skeptical shrug of the shoulders 
and uplifting of the brows. It was none of their 


Through Breakers. 


57 


business if this man chose to hide his bravery. 
If he had reason for his reticence, was it for them 
— some of them the men he had helped to save — 
to bruit his business to the world ? 

The group in the hotel parlor had learned 
some time previously that their friends were 
among the rescuing party upon the beach, and if 
it were possible for their fear to increase, it was 
then increased. Alecia endeavored to retain her 
brave face and comfort her companions with her 
words of cheer ; but it was a difficult thing for 
her to do, knowing that her husband was in the 
storm. Many women would have been still 
more terrified, knowing of the burden upon his 
shoulders that might make him reckless of his 
life. 

“ You are such a dear, sweet, brave thing, 
Alecia,” said Kathryn Franklin, admiringly, nest- 
ling nearer her friend upon the sofa, and patting 
one of her hands tenderly. “ I don’t see how you 
can sit here telling us so quietly not to be afraid, 
when you know that your husband is in this hor- 
rible lightning.” 

“ You must be a fatalist, Alecia,” Althea Dun- 
raven cried, with sudden animation. “ Though I 


5 & John Winthrop s Defeat . 


don’t see how you can believe that he is as safe 
out in the storm as in here away from it.” 

“ Oh, but we’re not away from it, Althea,” 
moaned poor little pretty Bess Catherwood, 
with reproachful eyes. “ We’re just right in the 
very midst of it ! I’ll never again come down to 
the sea in summer — never, never, never! It’s 
too dreadful.” 

“ You’ll forget all about it to-morrow when 
the sun shines,” said Leland, comfortingly, in an 
undertone. “But you’re not to forget, wicked 
little Bess, that you have given me your promise 
to-night.” 

“ Oh, dear !” she said, wretchedly, “ dear, 
dear, dear ! If you’ll keep me safe through this, 
Lane Leland, I’ll never be bad to you again ! I’ll 
just love you forever and ever ! I am so afraid !” 

“ Well,” he said, calmly, “ I shall remind you 
of this, if you do forget, Bess. I cannot be 
patient forever, you know!” 

But she could not quarrel with him, for she 
was too terrified, and only lifted those great 
black reproachful eyes of hers to his with a 
grieved curve to her red lips, that gave him a 
deplorable feeling of base ingratitude, and 


Through Breakers . 


59 


caused him to be infinitely tender to her for 
that time. 

“ I am not a fatalist — no,” said Alecia, smil- 
ing, in reply to Althea’s remark. “ It isn’t 
that, my dear, but if there is need for him to 
go I would not keep him. I would not have 
him a coward, you know, even to save his life.” 

“ That’s like you,” said Clara Bradley, softly. 
“ I never saw another woman to equal you, Mrs. 
Graham ! But I’m not brave, and I don’t want 
to be in such a horrible storm. Just think of our 
being cut off from home by all that water, with 
no way of getting there should we wish, and the 
hotel liable to be washed away — ” 

“ There is the lighthouse,” said Alecia, quietly. 
“ If the worst should come — which isn’t probable 
— we could go there, you know. That wouldn’t 
be washed away !” 

“ Oh, but you don’t know,” protested' Miss 
Clara, fretfully. “And, besides, we would all 
be blown into pieces before we could get there. 
I tell you it’s awful to be here in a storm !” 

“I’ll not let you come then, next summer, 
Clare,” said Ninette, roguishly. “ I’ll tell Uncle 
Hallett what a coward you are, and he’ll cut you 


6o 


John Winthrof s Defeat. 


off from his will without so much as enough to 
buy a bonnet, and then what will you do ?” 

“What do I care about bonnets?” retorted 
Clara, with tearful eyes, “ in such a storm as 
this, Ninette Bradley ? But you will be a mean, 
mean girl if you tell Uncle Hallet anything. I 
never do.” 

Her sister laughed. They all knew sufficiently 
well Clara Bradley’s passion for bonnets. 

“Oh, this is simply dreadful /” cried Miss 
Catherwood, starting to her feet with her hands 
over her ears, her face deepening in pallor with 
fear, as a peal of thunder crashed overhead, 
shaking the building, and thundered on and 
across the water into the far distance and was 
still. “ The lightning is bad enough, but it isn’t 
anything compared with the thunder. Y ou ought 
to be ashamed to laugh and talk about bonnets 
in this storm, you wicked girls.” 

“ Well, it’s very nice to have bonnets in clear 
weather, anyway,” retorted Kathryn Franklin. 
“ And we’re not wicked to talk about them, you 
little craven !” 

“ Everybody is so unkind to me,” said Bess, 
pitifully, with quivering lips that brought her 


Through Breakers. 


6 1 


lover’s heart to still deeper subjection, “ because 
I’m afraid of thunder. I can’t help it. I didn’t 
make myself. If I had, maybe I’d have made 
myself more like you, Alecia, or like Kathryn.” 

“ Poor little thing said Alecia, kindly, with 
quick sympathy, as she rose and crossed over to 
the girl, her hand touching lightly the curly 
dark head as she stooped and kissed the soft 
cheek nearest her. “ Poor little thing! It is 
unkind to be unkind to you.” 

“And you’re such a dear!” whispered Bess, 
impulsively, catching the soft hand from her 
head and dragging it down to her lips. “ You’re 
such a dear — and so beautiful, Mrs. Graham !” 

Lane Leland looked shamefully jealous of all 
this privilege, and Bess, knowing this very well, 
even in her fear could not resist being the least 
bit wicked. 

“ It is so nice to have people comfort one 
instead of teasing,” added this small tyrant, with 
her red lips and great eyes and eloquent face 
lifted to the beautiful woman above her, as she 
held the caressing hand between her own two 
hands. “ It is so sweet of you, Mrs. Graham, to 
understand just little me,” 


62 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


Just Little Me was wickedly understanding of 
what was in her lover’s heart. He had taunted 
her with being cruel and forgetful, and, although 
she needed his companionship and strength too 
much to quarrel with him, she could repay him 
for all slights most cruelly. 

Probably Mrs. Graham understood that quite 
as well as Miss Catherwood herself. Anyway, 
she laughed as she patted with her other hand 
the two hands clasping hers ere she turned and 
resumed her seat. 

“Just Little Me is a charming child,” she 
said, kindly and sweetly. “ Already the storm is 
passing, Miss Catherwood. You need fear no 
longer. The lightning and thunder are still 
severe, but they are too far away now to harm 
us. Be of good cheer, Just Little Me !” 

“ And here come the others !” cried Althea 
Dunraven, delightedly. “ Now we will know 
what is the matter and have them safe !” 

“ If they are safe !” supplemented Constance 
Armitage, wickedly. 

For Miss Armitage knew quite well that 
George Priestly was one of the party in the 
storm, and that George Priestly was more than 


Through Breakers . 


63 


a friend to pretty Miss Dunraven. And Miss 
Armitage could be a trifle spiteful, too, because 
her fiance was camping in the Adirondacks instead 
of boarding at the Surf Hotel on Fire Island. 

“ Of course they’re safe !” said Althea, indig- 
nantly, a flush on her pretty cheeks and her 
blue eyes shining. “ Don’t you suppose we 
would have heard of it if anything had happened ? 
Bad news travels always faster than good !” 

But Miss Armitage was saved the necessity of 
replying to this convincing remark by the 
entrance of the drenched party into the hall, and 
the prompt adjournment of the parlor group to 
learn what news they brought. Sufficient news, 
indeed ; and the group that had shuddered in 
the parlor, through the storm, felt uncomforta- 
bly small when compared with these men who 
had passed through so much in the midst of it. 
What heroes they made of them ! Crowded 
about them, in their pretty gowns, regardless of 
the sea-water or the rain, their bright eyes elo- 
quently alive with pride. 

“ I knew that you were brave,” said Alecia, 
very softly, with her hands around her husband’s 
arm and her shining eyes upon his, her lips half 


6 4 


John WinthroJ s Defeat . 


trembling in spite of their smiling. For they 
had told her of his bravery, withholding only 
his rescue of the man in the cottage. “ I 
couldn’t be afraid, Harold. I had such faith in 
you !” 

And he was grateful in the innermost depths 
of his soul, that he could meet her eyes without 
shrinking with guilt. 

“And I don’t see why you couldn’t have gone 
with them and been brave, too, instead of stay- 
ing safely in the parlor,” said cruel Miss Cather- 
wood petulantly, as she parted from Lane Leland 
at the stairs, a few minutes later, not even yield- 
ing him her hand. 


CHAPTER V. 

LEAVING THE OLD LIFE. 

The Zingara , anchored at the pier, had been 
badly battered and tossed during the night; but 
when morning broke and the sun shone in a 
cloudless sky, she rose and fell quietly on the 
waves, waiting for her passengers across at Baby- 






BUT YOU WILL come back to us V 9 — See Page 65. 



Leaving the Old Life . 


65 


Ion. Few passengers came that morning, for 
there was little interest evinced in business 
among the hotel guests. Gregory Bensonhurst 
was going for the day, to take a look at Wall 
street, he said, easily, though in his heart he was 
not easy regarding the condition of Graham’s 
affairs as hinted by Leland on the previous after- 
noon. 

The yachting party were to cross, also, to 
report the wrecking of the Queen Taphenes and 
the rescue of her passengers and crew. And as 
though it were the merest matter of course, Mrs. 
Graham announced that she was going to the 
city with her husband, as they had changed their 
intention of remaining the summer through at 
the Surf Hotel. 

“ But you will come back to us?” queried Bess 
Catherwood, earnestly, her pretty face lifted to 
her friend in the broad sunlight upon the pier as 
they walked down to the waiting boat. For 
those guests who were up after the events of the 
night, were going down to the dock to see them 
off, the little steamer’s departure and arrival 
being the special events of the May. “You 
must promise to come back to us, Mrs. Graham.” 


66 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat . 


Alecia smiled upon the eager face beside her. 
She knew quite well that this small woman and 
her lover had quarreled, for her eyes, seeing all 
that concerned her friends, had noted their avoid- 
ance of each other. She would make some one 
happy ere she left her old life, she said to herself, 
bravely. So she patted the fingers upon her arm, 
replying to some remark of Ninette’s before she 
spoke to this other friend. 

“ I cannot promise,” she said then, smiling 
gently. “ You are kind to wish it, Miss Cather- 
wood, but I think it scarcely probable that we 
shall return. Unexpected business calls my 
husband away, and doubtless we shall remain in 
the city for some time. When we leave, I think 
we shall travel through the West. We intended 
last fall to take a California trip, but were pre- 
vented. So, you see, it is not likely that we shall 
return here.” 

“ I see,” said Miss Catherwood, sorrowfully. 
“ I wish I need not see so clearly, Mrs. Graham. 
But ” — a soft rose color deepened upon her 
cheeks and a smile stirred the parted lips as 
though she scarcely dared tender her request — 
“ if ever you have time — and care to — will you 


67 


Leaving the Old Life . 


write to me, dear Mrs. Graham ? I should be so 
pleased! You somehow understand me better 
than my other friends, and, perhaps, I may — 
mind, I only say perhaps I may — grow brave 
from knowing you.” 

“ I shall be glad to do this,” Mrs. Graham 
answered. “ If you tell me to-morrow, or the 
next day, or any day in the future that you wish 
this, I shall believe that you do care. And now, 
good-bye, ‘ Just Little Me,’ and all good things 
come to you ” — for she felt that she might never 
again see the pretty face of this child-woman — 
“ but promise me here at parting, dear, that you 
will be kind to those who love you. Love is 
easier to hold when won than tempted back 
when once repulsed.” 

She knew, as she turned away to join her hus- 
band, who was waiting for her at the gang-plank 
— even before the shy words of promise were 
whispered — that she could safely trust the girl 
whom all claimed to be heartless and thought- 
less. 

The Zingara puffed and splashed her way, and 
the Island, with its gleaming sand-hills and 
beaches, its fluttering hotel-flag and light-house 


68 


John Wmthrop' s Defeat. 


tower rising calmly above the heaving and falling 
of the ocean at its foot, faded from view save as 
a speck upon the horizon. 

Meanwhile, pretty Bess, with her warm 
impulses, the words of her friend still fresh in 
her memory, turned to her lover glowering 
gloomily at the retreating steamer, and said, 
very softly and very sweetly, no trace of their 
quarrel upon her face, save a burning color on 
her cheeks and a tender wistfulness in her eyes : 

“ If only the friends who are good to one 
would stay with one, Mr. Leland. It is so hard 
to be always misunderstood and unjustly judged. 
She knew that I don’t mean half that I say that 
is unkind.” 

Those great black, wistful eyes of hers, like 
the reproachful eyes of a grieved child, scattered 
his anger to the four winds of heaven. He 
scarcely heard what it was that she said. He 
certainly never heeded the lookers-on. 

“My dear little Bess!” he said, softly. Her 
fingers were clinging to his arm instead of 
Alecia’s, and his eyes were bent upon the sweet, 
shy face in its beautiful color, reading the heart 


Leaving the Old Life . 


69 


hidden by the curling lashes over the betraying 
eyes. 

He was bending with great assurance above 
the graceful figure in its creamy flannel 
morning-dress, as they turned from watching 
the steamer bearing away their friends. And 
it was heaven come down to earth that morn- 
ing to Leland, as he sat on the beach with 
this willful girl, careful that her red parasol 
should shield her from the sun ; that her camp- 
chair was set most comfortably upon the sand 
facing the blue and gold of the ocean, whose 
white surf brought in many a fragment of beam 
or plank. What cared he that she had so often 
protested that she would never marry for less 
than limitless wealth, when there, in the broad 
light of morning, she whispered the sweet assur- 
ance that he must not believe all that she said, 
especially that, because she loved him ; and what 
beside that, was wealth ? 

“ Particularly,” she added, very gravely, but 
so sweetly that there was left no sting in her 
words — “ particularly, Lane, dear, when you 
know that you are not poor. I couldn’t marry 
anybody , no matter how much I loved him, if he 


70 


John Winthrop s Defeat. 


were very poor and had no chance to rise, 
because I think it is quite wicked. Every one 
should feel as I do about this, Lane. They don’t 
think half enough. It isn’t so much that I love 
luxury as that a man has no right to marry a 
woman if he cannot support her.” 

And what could her lover do but acquiesce 
and murmur his astonishment at the wisdom of 
her words ? 

“ It is strange how the world can be shaken by 
storm one hour and brilliant with sunlight the 
next !” said Alecia as she and her husband and 
Gregory Bensonhurst, with the party from the 
Queen Taphenes , left the steamer at the Babylon 
pier and took the stage for the depot. “ And the 
strangest part of it is that the heaviest storm 
leaves no adequate trace of its violence.” 

“ But it is better so,” said her husband, quickly. 
“Let the gardens of the East fall into the sea, 
and the flowers of the West are just as sweet ! 
That is but justice, Alecia !” 

“ And yet, who would think,” said one of the 
yachting party, laughing, “ that some half-dozen 
hours or so ago we were in the blackest storm I 
ever saw ; or came so near never seeing sunshine 


Leaving the Old Life . 


7 1 


again, whether in east or west ? It is a rapid 
world we live in, and, as such, let the Gardens of 
the East fall, if the}^ will, so long as the flowers 
of the West survive !” 

“ Well, 1 like it best as it is here in the East — 
now — yes,” said one of his companions. “ It 
wasn’t a specially clever thing to be clinging to 
a wet rope in a wet sea, with a wet sky coming 
down on you. Earle got off pretty lucky, I 
think — thanks to ” — he came near forgetting his 
agreement to speak of the adventure to no one 
outside of the witnesses, and caught himself with 
a slight fit of coughing — “thanks to the men on 
the beach ! He came a trifle too near going 
under to please me, were I in his place !” 

“ I wouldn’t mind being in his place,” said one 
of the others, laughing, with a shrug of his shoul- 
ders, catching the strange expression upon 
Harold Graham’s face and believing that he 
knew its cause ; “ if by being there I could pos- 
sess his wealth. One of the richest men in the 
city, he is ! Look at the yacht that went down ! 
Worth a good sight of money ! And his horses ! 
Why, his stables are enough to make one howl 
from pure jealousy !” 


72 


John Winthrofs Defeat . 


Conversation strayed upon indifferent subjects 
after that. The gentlemen, after boarding the 
train, buried themselves in the morning papers 
with a comment now and then upon some point 
of politics or other thought as suggested in the 
columns before them. And before they reached 
the city most of them went into the smoker to 
refresh themselves against the trying day with a 
cigar — all save Harold Graham, who protested 
that he did not care for this stimulant but would 
remain with his wife. 

“ And now, dearest,” he said, when they were 
alone, as regarded their friends, “ this will be a 
hard day for both of us. I shall take you home 
at once and then go down town. I will place 
everything in Clavering’s hands and let them 
fight it out ! It will be the bitterest fight of my 
life ! I regret that your mother and sisters are 
still in Europe, Alecia ! I wish they were here 
with you, at this difficult time !” 

“ You need not regret their absence, Harold,” 
Alecia said, quietly. “ I am glad they are away. 
I prefer having only you, until this is over. We 
will fight it out by ourselves and hope for the 
best that can come.” 


Leaving the Old Life . 


73 


“Your faith is wonderful, Alecia,” he said, 
rather coldly, his temperament changeable 
under the trials of the past day. He had so 
little hope for himself. “ I think you will find it 
tried to the utmost ere you have done.” 

“ And still there will be some good left. Noth- 
ing is ever all wrong.” 

“Nor half good,” said her husband, bitterly, 
“ except you, Alecia 1” 

But be as brave as she would, Alecia knew 
that much of bitterness must come to them ere 
they could leave the city and begin their new 
life at the West, where the flowers were still 
sweet in spite of the falling gardens of the East. 
And in truth, she was tried most bitterly during 
the weeks that followed that day. 

The failure of the house of Graham electrified 
the city at the first shock ; a little later came the 
comprehension that this failure meant loss to 
many — possibly utter ruin for some — and then 
came the ruthless clamor for self and self and 
self. 

“ Literally every man for himself,” said Harold 
Graham, bitterly, one day, “ and the devil take 
him that comes last. Would to God I could but 


74 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


meet all my liabilities, and I would start afresh 
in a western city and build up a new name. But 
burdened as I shall be at the best — ” 

“ If all is done that is possible,” said Alecia, in 
her sweet, quiet voice, allowing no shadow of 
her own suffering to fall upon her husband, “we 
can do no more than start afresh anyway, 
Harold, and build up the old name and pay off 
the old debts and find a happy life through it 
all.” 

“ I believe you would find happiness if exiled 
to Siberia, Alecia,” said her husband wearily, 
yet always courteous to her. “ What is it in 
your heart that lifts you over everything — you, 
too, who love every good thing as well as I do ? 
One might think you the daughter of Solon, my 
sweet philosopher. What would I do without 
you ?” 

She went to him and ran her fingers softly 
and lightly through his hair. There were wrin- 
kles of care in his face and threads of gray in 
the midnight hair, that had come within that 
short space of trouble. Very soft and tender 
were her fingers and magnetic in their touch, 


Leaving the Old Life . 


75 


until the lines softened and a smile fell upon the 
tense lips. 

“ Then Mr. Earle will not compromise the 
matter, Harold — will not give you any grace, no 
matter how it is urged upon him ?” 

“ I tell you he is implacable, Alecia ! He has 
such straight lines of integrity for his own trad- 
ing that he cannot see a hairs breadth to left or 
right in another man’s affairs with leniency. I 
do not think the man is really hard-hearted. He 
believes himself right. Clavering urged the last 
plea for me with him to-day. He might as well 
have pleaded with a rock.” 

“ Then I will see what I can do. I am not 
a lawyer nor so eloquent in business phrases as 
Mr. Clavering, but 1 shall see what a woman can 
do. We will not despair, 1 tell you, Harold. 
We will do everything that we can.” 

He pushed the soft hand from his head and 
arose facing her. A flush was fighting the pal- 
lor of his face. He was frowning heavily. 

“ What is it you would do, Alecia ?” 

“ I shall go to Mr. Earle myself,” she said 
quietly, standing as resolutely facing him as he 
faced her. “ I shall appeal to his sense of justice. 


76 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


I shall tell him, if every other plea fails, that he 
is worse than cruel to be so implacable toward 
the man who saved his life at the risk of his 
own — ” 

“ Never !” he interrupted her fiercely, starting 
forward. “ Pardon me, Alecia, for my harsh- 
ness, but I will not have that used in my favor. 
If he will not give me a fair chance to retrieve 
myself from purely business motives, he shall 
not ever say that I worked upon his gratitude. 
Who told you, any way, Alecia? They gave me 
their word they would not repeat it. He did 
not know.’' 

“ No one told me,” she said, steadily ; “ I 
guessed it, Harold. I knew, every one knew, 
that you did much toward saving the other men, 
and I added this. I knew you, and knew it was 
what you would do.” 

“ But you shall not tell him,” he repeated more 
quietly, the first intense feeling of anger at dis- 
covering that she was cognizant of that act — 
unconscious also of his temptation — was gone. 
“ You shall not go to that man, either, Alecia. 
Do you think that I would allow my wife to 
plead with any man ? Do you think that I will 


Justice . 


77 


allow you to have anything to do with this 
matter? Give me your word that you will not 
go, that you will not do this, as you love me.” 

“ Because I love you,” she said, very gently, 
“ I will do this, Harold. It is very little. It 
may do no good. I can but try. You will 
allow me to do it because you must. I am a 
woman as you are a man, and I will not yield 
what I think is right any more than would you. 
I may succeed where you would fail ; 1 am your 
wife ; I shall try. But I will not urge your act 
of bravery upon him. I will promise you that, 
dearest, as I love you.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

JUSTICE. 


Mrs. Harold Graham 


was delicately engraved upon the card laid upon 
the desk before Palmer Earle in his handsome 


78 


John Winthrop's Defeat . 


private office ; and Palmer Earle’s gray brows 
were meeting heavily as he bade the boy admit 
her. 

“ She has kept her engagement with prompt- 
ness,” he said, glancing from the clock above his 
desk to the man standing at the window. “ You 
must acknowledge that, Winthrop, in spite of 
your scorn of women.” 

“ I do not scorn them,” answered the other 
calmly. “You misjudge me, Mr. Earle. Only 
— they are not fitted for business or this sort of 
thing. I warn you beforehand to expect tears 
and entreaties. If you yield, it will be strongly 
against my advice. This woman, his wife, has a 
fortune in her own right, and if she be a true 
woman she will offer to give it toward her hus- 
band’s liabilities. If she does not — well, the 
matter has been gone sufficiently over with their 
lawyer, it seems to me.” 

“ Perhaps her fortune went with her hus- 
band’s,” suggested Palmer Earle, with no idea 
of arguing for the woman, but as the thought 
suggested itself to his mind. 

The other shrugged his shoulders. 


Justice . 


79 


“ It isn’t probable,” he said. “ If it were so, 
Graham’s counsel would have stated the fact.” 

Further conversation upon this point was 
interrupted by the entrance of the woman in 
question. She was dressed very plainly in a 
close-fitting dark-blue suit with a hint of gold 
braid about it, and a bonnet of blue with yellow 
rosebuds almost hid in lace, one perfectly gloved 
hand held for a moment in the strong hand of 
Palmer Earle. For, stern business man though 
he was, he was impelled to admiration by this 
woman. 

“ I sincerely regret that you considered it 
necessary to call upon me this morning in regard 
to this matter, although at any other time I am 
pleased to meet Mrs. Graham,” he said in his 
large, grave way. “ Mrs. Graham, my counsel, 
Mr. Winthrop, I believe, is a stranger to you. 
Allow me to make you acquainted. Mr. Claver- 
ing, your husband’s lawyer, arranged for you to 
meet us here this morning, as you know. Believe 
me, in the first place, that I sincerely regret this 
misfortune and would have had Mr. Winthrop 
close with Mr. Clavering’s offers if I might ; but 
it is impossible — utterly impracticable !” 


8o 


John WinthroJ s Defeat . 


“ Entirely so !” supplemented John Winthrop 
emphatically. His straight brows, frowning, cast 
a shadow of hardness into the dark-gray eyes 
looking so levelly into the beautiful violet eyes 
of the woman before them. Her heart almost 
failed her as she looked into his quiet, stern face. 
He was not a handsome man, but he was tall and 
broad-shouldered and commanding ; his cleanly, 
shapely hands betrayed perfect self-control, and a 
powerful hidden strength of will and muscle ; 
those steady gray eyes and the quiet mouth 
under the brown mustache made him a striking 
looking man — one upon whom to rely implicitly, 
but one who would never yield one hair’s 
breadth from his standard of right or justice. 
His heart must always yield to his will should 
there come any conflict between them. 

“ I know that Mr. Clavering has done what 
he could to settle this matter,” said Alecia, her 
soft voice sounding sweetly through the room, 
stirring the hearts of her listeners. “ But he is 
a man. Sometimes a woman’s instinct overbal- 
ances even a lawyer’s keen insight.” Her swift, 
brilliant smile lighted and faded from her face 
like the transfiguration of some passing dream of 


Justice . 


81 


beauty. “ My husband has given up everything 
as you know, gentlemen. He is willing and 
anxious to meet all demands against him ; that 
he cannot do so is his misfortune not his fault. 
I need not tell you it is against his wishes that I 
am here. You, also, cannot fail to know that. 
He is too proud to plead for even simple justice 
where it is not freely given. But I am his wife, 
and if in any way l can lighten his burden, I 
shall be infinitely grateful. 

“ Knowing that he has done everything in his 
power, that he is willing and anxious to do what 
he can to retrieve his fallen fortunes, being hon- 
orable men and men of justice, can you still 
refuse to make some concession — to compromise 
with him for such or such an amount on the dol- 
lar? Perhaps I do not understand business terms 
or business itself welt enough to meet Mr. Win- 
throp upon equal grounds of argument ; but, 
being a woman, I have a heart and know that 
my husband’s is very bitter and very heavy. 1, 
as his wife, therefore ask you to be just. I do 
not ask you to be generous ; only to be just. I 
appeal to your heads, not to your hearts, and 
ask you if you can frankly tell me that^ou do 


82 


John Winthrof s Defeat. 


all that any man could do under corresponding 
circumstances ?” 

John Winthrop, counsel, and Palmer Earle, 
creditor, had, perhaps, never in their lives had a 
more sincere or earnest desire, than then, in 
wishing this woman away. Palmer Earle, stern, 
strong, unyielding business man, holding against 
this woman’s husband the heaviest weight of 
debt ; Palmer Earle, indomitable in action 
between his counsel and Graham’s counsel ; 
Palmer Earle, up to that moment thoroughly 
convinced that he was just and honorable to the 
utmost letter of honor and justice; Palmer Earle, 
before this small, proud, beautiful woman, with 
her level eyes and steady lips, felt that it might 
be he was sterner than he need be, and unyield- 
ing where yielding might be wiser ! He was not 
soft-hearted ; he would have been the first to 
scorn such an insinuation ; and he was not to be 
moved from his business level of honor. But, 
apart from softness of heart or trace of senti- 
ment, he could not meet the quiet eyes of Alecia 
Graham and feel at ease. He leaned his head 
upon his hand, his elbow upon the desk, and sat 
in silence for a moment; whether relenting or 


Justice . 


83 


waiting for his counsel to speak, how could she 
know ? 

John Winthrop, counsel against this woman’s 
husband, looking at the case from all sides with 
justice, as he tried to do, having already decided, 
could not be moved. It would merely be relent- 
ing because of the woman, and that he would 
never admit. He would have been glad to send 
her away with a lighter heart, and again bring 
upon her face that transfiguring smile that made 
even that room something the better ; but he 
would not do it, for he felt convinced — perfectly 
convinced — that he was right, and judging for 
his client, would be guilty of dishonor, should he 
decide against him. 

Perhaps — but this he would not utter, even to 
his own heart — perhaps, because he was so moved 
by her beauty and purity and pride of woman- 
hood he would not yield to her pleading. No 
woman had ever so moved him. He admired 
beauty, as every man must, who is not thor- 
oughly indifferent to what is good and high, but 
he held a woman’s constancy and will as rather 
weak— not to be relied upon. 

He had expected tears and entreaties, and was 


8 4 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


prepared to meet them ; and had not been called 
upon to meet them ; and his heart struggled with 
his strong will fiercely before Alecia — Harold 
Graham’s wife. 

But he would not yield. 

Palmer Earle lifted his head presently, as he 
did so meeting Alecia’s eyes, and turned to his 
counsel. He placed implicit reliance upon John 
Winthrop’s judgment and justice. 

“We have done everything that is possible, 
Mr. Winthrop ? Are you quite assured that 
there is no means of compromising the matter ? 
No allowance of time? No adjustment of a 
reasonable per cent.? I desire to be entirely 
just to every one, and would be specially glad 
to grant any request of Mrs. Graham’s. I have 
known her husband slightly socially, and had 
long business relations with him, and have found 
him honorable until this failure came without 
notice or warning. If you can suggest any way 
out of the difficulty I shall be glad to accede to 
it, even at a loss to myself.” 

Still John Winthrop would not yield. 

il I have considered the matter carefully and 
without prejudice,” he said, quietly, but with 


Justice . 


85 


new sternness in his voice, as though he would 
repel any further pleading on the part of this 
woman. “ As you say, I desire to be just at all 
times. Your claim against Mrs. Graham’s hus- 
band is exceedingly heavy, and as yet but a 
slight portion has been met. Mr. Graham 
placed everything, he says, in the hands of his 
creditors to meet his liabilities. But of this I 
am not quite convinced. A man should honora- 
bly give up all that he possesses at such a time, 
and his wife should make such effort also. You 
will pardon me, Mrs. Graham, if my words 
sound harsh, but your diamonds and your for- 
tune, I understand — ” 

Alecia’s proud head was lifted with a trifle 
more pride, and her eyes flamed into his, a deep 
red spot glowingin each cheek. Otherwise she 
was perfectly calm. 

“ My diamonds,” she said, and her voice was 
no longer sweet or gentle, but cut like ice upon 
her listeners — “ my diamonds are mine, Mr. Win- 
throp. Why should I yield them up ?” 

“ But it remains to be proved whether or not 
Mr. Graham purchased them prior to his finan- 


86 


John Winthrop' 1 s Defeat. 


cial embarrassment, Mrs. Graham. If he did 
not — ” 

“ My jewels were every one bought for me 
before my husband’s financial embarrassments, 
Mr. Winthrop,” interrupted the steady voice. 
“ Therefore they are mine. I am not held 
responsible for my husband’s liabilities. And 
what then ? If my husband’s creditors will not 
be lenient, should his wife give up her posses- 
sions and leave him absolutely no way out of dif- 
ficulties, and no opportunity to retrieve losses ? 
I, too, although merely a woman, and though I 
know nothing of business, would be utterly just. 
1, too, have considered this matter carefully and 
without prejudice, Mr. Winthrop, and am 
decided as to action. Is this the best that you 
can say to me, Mr. Earle ?” 

Palmer Earle frowned somewhat upon his 
counsel, but he held still such perfect faith in 
him, that he could not dispute his decision. If, 
hearing what this woman had said, he held to 
his former course, he, his client, would follow 
out his action also. He was no sentimental 
woman to be weakened by a pretty face or a 
pretty voice. After all, as he had not yielded to 


Justice. 


87 


Graham’s counsel, why should he yield to 
Graham’s wife ? Merely because she was a 
beautiful woman? Business and sentiment went 
ill together. He would not have been seated in 
that room that day had he been governed by his 
heart instead of his head. There was too much 
weak yielding in the world as it was. 

“ What can I say to you, Mrs. Graham ?” he 
answered, in a less cordial, although thoroughly 
courteous voice. “ I regret most heartily that 
circumstances are such as they are. It would 
afford me much pleasure to grant your wish, 
but as Mr. Winthrop sees no new way out of the 
matter, I fear it must stand as it is. I yielded 
to your wish to meet us here when communi- 
cated by your husband’s lawyer, greatly against 
my inclination, because it looked so utterly 
impossible of bringing better results, and a 
refusal is hard at the best of times. Neverthe- 
less, as I stated belore, I desire always to be just, 
and I acceded to your wish. It there should 
come any better adjustment in the future, I, 
among your friends, shall be much gratified. Of 
course, as you say, you know little of business, 


88 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


and what is simplest justice may appear very 
hard to you.” 

“ I thank you,” said Alecia, quietly, “ for your 
courtesy, Mr. Earle. 1 too, wish there might 
have been a better ending. I asked for justice 
and you feel that you have been just from the 
first. It may not so appear to me — being a 
woman and knowing so little of business — but if 
you are convinced of your right I have nothing 
further to say. I wish you both good morning.” 

She had risen and the two men with her, still 
exceedingly proud and quiet in her beauty, not 
so much as the quiver of an eyelash proving how 
sorely she was hurt. She turned toward the 
door, John Winthrop crossing to open it for her, 
the slow, cold words upon her lips, bending her 
head graciously to them as a queen might do. 
Though she were wounded to the death, she 
would still be proud ! 

“ I have tried, but I have signally failed,” she 
said, in passing John Winthrop at the doorway. 
“ I think it is to you that I owe mv failure, Mr. 
Winthrop !” 


Under Light Words. 


89 


CHAPTER VII. 

UNDER LIGHT WORDS. 

And in that we have nobly striven at least, 

Deal with us nobly, women though we be. 

And honor us with truth if not with praise. 

* * * * * * * 

The world's male chivalry has perished out, 

But women are knight-errant to the last. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

Pretty Miss Catherwood was crying ! Not in 
wild grief, but very softly, as though it were a 
flower she had lost, or some pet bird, like the 
fond, thoughtless child-woman she was. She sat 
upon the sands, just at the bend in the beach 
that shut her off from the hotel and pavilion and 
the bathers in the surf. Her small hands — veri- 
table child's hands they looked with their soft 
flesh and dimples — clasped about her knees, her 
feet patting restlessly the glittering particles 
under foot. She was looking out over the water, 
but it was little she saw, for those brimming 
tears upon her lashes blurred and dimmed the 
ships and the ocean and the delicate summer 


9 o 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


clouds upon the heavens. Her red lips were 
quivering with grief, but very kissable still, and 
although weeping had somewhat flushed the 
delicate face, she was more fair than Aphrodite 
or Ariadne — said Lane Leland, discovering her, 
standing on the sandhill above her. 

“Sweetheart!” he said, going softly down to 
her and kneeling upon one knee at her side — 
they were alone — “ what has happened that you 
are here like this, and so sad? Let me share 
your sorrow, whatever it may be, and so lighten 
it for you !” 

Like a startled child, her black eyes were 
raised to his face, and then the hands were 
unclasped from around her knees and covered 
her face, and in the first moment of companion- 
ship she sobbed very pitifully, her head upon 
his shoulder where he had drawn it. Then, the 
woman conquering the child, she withdrew her- 
self from his embrace, winking very hard and fast 
to shake the trace of tears from her lashes and 
smoothing her rumpled hair. 

“ It is so very, very hard, this blow upon Mrs. 
Graham, Lane ! She is so sweet and so brave ! I 
loved her — I just could not help it, when she was 


Under Light Words . 


9i 


here ; and I think, I think she liked me — a little ! 
I want to go to her, Lane, and comfort her, and 
let her know that I do care for her friendship ! 
She seemed to think that I would not care for 
it after that day.” 

“Why not write to her?” suggested Lane, 
gently, never quite certain of pleasing this small 
tyrant of his. “ Then you can go to her when 
it is possible, Bess, dear !” 

But Miss Bess did not see it in that light. 

“ That wouldn't do at all , Lane !” she pro- 
tested, poking the sand busily into a tiny heap 
with the toe of one boot. “ I shall go to her 
this very day. The morning steamer has gone, 
I know, but Mr. Priestly will take me across in 
the Banjo — that was her favorite boat, too, Lane 
— and I shall remain with Aunt Wright over 
night in the. city. She will be glad to have me, 
in her loneliness. Poor, beautiful Mrs. Gra- 
ham !” 

“ And who will go with you to the city, 
Bess ?” 

The great eyes turned upon him were the old 
saucy black eyes now. 

“As though I am incapable of traveling 


92 


John Winthrofs Defeat . 


alone,” she said, scornfully. “ In the nineteenth 
century, too ! I scarcely think any bears will 
eat me, Sir Galahad !” 

“ Well,” said her lover, with a lover’s foolish 
fondness, “ you are sweet enough to eat, Miss 
Independence, and I will not allow you to travel 
alone. Pray, where is your chaperon ?” 

“ Mrs. Ellis? She will remain here, of course, 
to welcome me upon my return, like the prodi- 
gal daughter, Blue Beard. I am going in at 
once to dress. I only came out here to have my 
little mourn before I started, and you must fol- 
low me even here. Think of the whole long 
day of my absence and be very nice to me while 
I am here, Mr. Lane.” 

“ I shall think of nothing of the sort,” he 
retorted coolly. “ 1 am going to the city myself 
this morning to see Graham. There is room 
enough in the Banjo for an extra passenger, and 
Mrs. Ellis will give you into my charge until I 
hand you over to Mrs. Graham. This blow 
upon them is very heavy. Who would have 
thought it of such a man ? Solid as a brick, 
everybody said. But his wife has a fortune in 


Under Light Words . 


93 


her own right, you know. That is better than 
total loss." 

It was Alecia’s wish that no one except those 
obliged to know should learn of her loss of 
fortune ; and her husband, seeing that it was a 
heart wish, yielded to her. So even their most 
intimate friends did not know the extent of their 
reverses. 

Miss Catherwood was intrusted with many 
messages of sympathy from those at the Surf 
Hotel who had known the Grahams even so 
slightly as to be upon only speaking acquaint- 
ance. Every one liked the man and admired 
the woman — the two who had made many a 
happy day for them with their lavish money 
and kindly courtesy. 

The magnificent house on the Avenue was 
closed and the shades drawn down, no sign of 
life about it as Miss Catherwood and Leland 
ascended the steps, not even at first receiving an 
answer to their ring. 

“ Perhaps they have gone away," said Bess, a 
pucker of perplexity between her brows. “ If 
they have lost everything, Lane, of course this 


94 


John Winthrop's Defeat . 


lovely house must go, too. It just makes me 
wish to cry , it is so wicked.” 

Her lover would not allow even the ghost of 
a smile to stir his lips, though he was inwardly 
pondering the strange freaks of women — espe- 
cially this woman — who could be at once so child- 
ish and so womanly ; variable, in truth as the 
winds of heaven. He was also thinking of the 
“ lovely dresses and bonnets” which she had so 
protested she envied, and her openly expressed 
vexation that this man, now a brnkrupt, had not 
fallen in love with her small self instead of 
Alecia Field. But he was growing wise, this 
lover of hers, and made no reply to her charm- 
ing speech ; and presently they were admitted 
into the silent house, and Alecia came down to 
greet them, pale exceedingly, but very beautiful. 
She was gowned in a soft gray cashmere, that 
fell about her in bewildering folds, as though it 
loved her, the pale blue silk trimmings and deli- 
cate lace setting off her sweetly proud face and 
waves of hair. 

“ You are so beautiful always and so brave, 
dear, dear Mrs. Graham !” murmured spoiled 
Miss Bess, with her two hands holding the slen- 


Under Light Words . 


95 


der hand extended to her in welcome, while the 
violet eyes met the black eyes tenderly. “ I 
could not stay away. And we are so sorry, all 
of us, about this. And the girls sent their love, 
and they cried — some of them ; and I don’t 
know how to tell you that I am so sorry, sorry, 
sorry ! What are you, any way, Mrs. Graham, 
that nothing spoils you or makes you cross ?” 

Alecia smiled down into the black eyes of this 
warm-hearted friend. She drew her with her 
down upon a sofa near Lane Leland, that he 
should be included at once in the conversation. 

“ It is wonderfully kind of you all,” she said, 
“ to think of my husband and me at this time. 
It is an anxious time, of course. You would 
scarcely recognize my husband ; he is so worried 
about not being able to meet his liabilities that 
he frets himself thin. But he is so thoughtful of 
me always,” she added, swiftly, lest they should 
wrong him for an instant, “ and thinks more of 
my comfort than of anything.” 

“ He’d be just horrid if he didn’t!” murmured 
Miss Bess, emphatically, with a soft pat on the 
hand she held. “ I don’t believe even a bear 
would bite you, dear Mrs. Graham.” 


9 6 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


“Of course Harold is not in, Mrs. Graham ?’’ 
queried Leland, scarcely knowing what to say to 
this proud, self-contained woman. “ I would 
like so much to see him before I return to Fire 
Island." 

“ Yes, Harold is out," said Alecia, softly. “ I 
am never certain of his hours at home now, Mr. 
Leland. He will regret not seeing you. If you 
have time to come in later, he may have returned. 
One would not wish to miss a friend at this time 
of need, you know." How brilliantly she could 
smile still ! “ He has placed his affairs with Mr. 

Clavering and given up everything to his credi- 
tors. Surely they can expect no more of him." 

“ And, after all," said Bess, comfortingly, 
“ there is your own fortune, Mrs. Graham. It 
isn’t as though you had nothing left. You have 
more money than I even now." 

Not a muscle of Alecia’s face changed to 
betray her. Her hands were steady under the 
soft fingers upon them, and her voice even when 
she spoke. 

“ It is sweet of you to be so* thoughtful," she 
said. “ If only it all were over ! I dread this 
time more than later. We will leave the house at 


HANDKERCHIEF ANSWERING THE FLUTTER OF HANDKERCHIEFS. — See Page 109 . 



# 




Under Light Words. 


97 


once. It is no longer ours, and we could not 
remain longer than necessary to make other 
arrangements. Afterward I think we shall leave 
the city, It will be best to go away, you know. 
My husband has been under such severe trials 
that he will need the change.” 

“ And you ?” queried Miss Catherwood, softly. 
“You must think of yourself sometimes, Mrs. 
Graham.” 

A slow color deepened in Mrs. Graham’s face. 

“ As every one thinks of me,” she said, “ and 
for me, what need is there for me to think of 
myself, Miss Catherwood? And among those 
friends who do think of us is Mr. Bensonhurst. 
He is untiring in his efforts to cheer Harold and 
to keep from him any unpleasantness in his power. 
I will frankly acknowledge my failing and say 
that I did not believe there was so much good 
in him, Mr. Leland.” 

“ A fellow couldn’t help being the best he 
knew how for you and your husband, you 
know !” said Leland, impulsively. “ Still, there 
is more in Gregory Bensonhurst than one would 
believe until one knows him. I know him. He 


9 8 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


is solid right through, if he is somewhat given 
to taking life easy, Mrs, Graham.” 

“ Yes,” said Alecia, gravely. “We have found 
him true indeed, Mr. Leland.” 

Then she asked after Mr. Earle’s recovery from 
the effects of the wreck as quietly and interest- 
edly as though he were their warmest friend, 
and turned the conversation to general topics, 
and was her bright, calm, beautiful self, as 
though, Miss Catherwood thought wonderingly 
— as though nothing wrong had come upon 
them. 

And by and by Lane Leland took his leave ; 
but Miss Catherwood remained with her friend 
at her request. 

So the days went by, some of them dragging 
heavily, some all too swift, through the remain- 
der of the summer ; and it was autumn weather 
before the affairs of Harold Graham were settled 
enough to admit of his leaving the city to open 
a new life in a new field. 

After Alecia’s vain attempt to bring about 
some adjustment of the affair, the case was tried, 
and she was closely examined to discover, if 
possible, whether or not there remained some 


Under Light Words . 


99 


means whereby the creditor, Palmer Earle, 
should receive his due. For four weary hours 
she was held in the witness-stand. For four 
interminable hours these men argued to prove 
that Harold Graham had not given up all that 
he could and should to meet the demand against 
him. 

And what did they prove? That her fortune 
was gone with her husband’s ; that nothing was 
withheld save her diamonds, and those her exclu- 
sive property ; and besides this nothing did they 
prove save how true and noble was Alecia, 
Harold Graham’s wife, tho*ugh not a shadow of 
softness or yielding was granted her by John 
Winthrop, counsel for Palmer Earle ; not a 
shadow of turning, even when he discovered 
that there remained no fortune of hers to be 
yielded to her husband’s creditors ; even though 
he knew that the handsome house upon the 
Avenue belonging to her was given up to meet, 
so far as it might, these heavy demands. 

Nothing moved him, for down in his heart he 
was struggling to yield, and his will would not ; 
for he believed it weakness because of a woman’s 
face, and would be injustice to his client. 


IOO 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


Alecia’s mother and sisters were upon the 
Continent at the time of her husband’s failure, 
and learned the startling news through the col- 
umns of the papers only, for Alecia kept any 
mention of it from her letters ; and they started 
for home as soon as arrangements could be hur- 
ried ; for in her home she was the sunshine as 
well as in the world, and those nearest and dear- 
est would save her unpleasantness or harm, so 
far as lay in human power. She had wished 
them to remain away until the worst was over, 
for she knew that their presence would increase 
her proud husband’s humiliation ; but, being a 
woman, and loving and craving sympathy, brave 
as she tried to be, she could not fail to feel a 
sense of rest and strength in the circle of home 
love that came with them. 

No word of reproach was spoken of her hus- 
band’s carelessness in this unfortunate invest- 
ment that had lost a princely fortune ; no word 
was uttered among them save perfect love and 
regret and encouragement. Harold Graham 
had too long been to them an ideal honorable 
man for them to question his integrity. Mrs. 
Field insisted upon their remaining at her house, 


Under Light Words . 


101 


and admitted no denial when Harold urged 
objections ; and from the mother to Beatrice, the 
youngest of the family, they all — Marion and 
Cora and Frances — gave only good cheer to this 
favorite sister and her husband. 

“ I hate that lawyer of Mr. Earle’s !” cried 
Beatrice, with flushing cheeks and sparkling 
eyes. “ He is the only one who is so hard upon 
Harold. The others are willing to give him 
time to retrieve himself, but this John Winthrop 
— I've got his name by heart, I assure you, for 
I’ll not forget him if the time comes to remember 
— is like adamant, and urges Mr. Earle to the 
very last extremity, and is so generally hateful 
that I wish I could tell him what / think of him. 
Maybe he isn’t used to hearing the truth, but 
he’d hear it then !” 

“ Which would utterly crush him, of course !” 
said Marion, ironically. 

“ Even if it hasn’t done so yet, for I met him 
just now and he still trod the street like a 
veritable Prince of the Stony Hearts, Miss Bee,” 
said a laughing voice at the door, as the footman 
announced — 

“ Mr. Gregory Bensonhurst.” 


102 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


CHAPTER VIII, 

FAREWELL. 


Well, after. There are nettles everywhere, 

But smooth green grasses are more common still ; 
The blue of heaven is larger than the cloud. 

— Aurora Leigh . 


“ Alecia !” 

“ Yes, mamma.” 

“ Why will you and Harold be so absurdly 
proud as to give up all home ties, hide yourselves 
from friends who love you, and go to the other 
side of the country because misfortune has come 
upon you? You know that you are more than 
welcome to your old home while Harold is 
retrieving himself. Misfortune is liable to fall 
upon any of us ; it is no crime. Why should you 
go away as though it were?” 

“ Or as though you were defaulters !” said 
Marion, her hands among the embroidery silks in 
her lap, her eyes lifted for the moment to her sis- 
ter’s quiet face. 


Farewell. 


103 


“ Or the naughty children who threw stones at 
the prophets !” added Cora. 

“ Or hide in the woods for robins to feed, 
because the wicked uncle wanted their money !” 
supplemented Beatrice, in her swift, defensive 
voice. “ I wish I could send John Winthrop to 
the Sandwich Islands to be eaten by cannibals ! 
It’s no more than he deserves for being so hate- 
ful.” 

“ They wouldn’t eat him, Bee,” said Cora, 
soothingly, “ because he is too tough !” 

“ Anyhow, they’d scare him !” retorted 
Beatrice, unmollified. “ And somebody ought to 
lower his pride !” 

Alecia laughed, more because of their protes- 
tations than from lightness of heart. 

“You must not think of our going in this 
light,” she said, presently, unable to speak at 
first, because of Beatrice’s lavish caresses. For 
Beatrice considered Alecia the ideal of woman- 
hood. “ Harold has lost everything through 
those fraudulent mining investments and the 
rest, and it is impossible for him to retrieve him- 
self in this State, in consequence of his heavy 
debts. We are going West because there the 


104 


John Winthrof s Defeat . 


field seems good. California is charming, 
especially Southern California, and we will 
doubtless meet with pleasant people. I have 
long desired to travel through that State and 
Colorado and Oregon — those brave pioneer 
sister States of ours, you know, and here the 
opportunity opens ! 

“ Of course, we will be that distance from 
home ; but if all goes well with us, we shall return 
as soon as there is a chance of paying these 
dreadful debts. You can, too, come to us next 
summer instead of going to Europe, if you wish, 
and it isn’t half so bad as going to Bee’s Sand- 
wich Islands or Siberia ! Now that the worst 
trouble is over, Harold needs rest>and change. 
The poor, dear fellow is terribly worn !” 

“Yes,” said Beatrice, tearfully, patting her 
sister’s hand, “poor dear! I just want to cry 
when I look at him, and I hate John Winthrop 
afresh every time !” 

“Your hatred doesn’t move him, Bee,” said 
Marion, in her cool way ; “ for he hasn’t asked 
for your love. I would not allow him to 
trouble my conscience to such an extent. It is 
bad enough for Alecia and Harold to go away 


Farewell \ 


105 


without giving grief or thought to a stran- 
ger !” 

“ He’d call them crocodile’s tears, anyway, 
Bee, if he knew it!” added Cora. 

“ Nevertheless,” said Alecia, quietly, rumpling 
up the brown curls upon Beatrice’s head as the 
girl sat upon the rug at her feet — “ in spite of 
all this, Bee, dear, I am certain that Mr. Winthrop 
simply carries out his standard of honor toward 
his client. He is hard in doing so, but he is an 
honorable man.” 

“ And setting aside honorable men and croco- 
dile tears and John Winthrop,” added Frances, 
softly — Frances was sitting idly at a window 
looking down upon the Avenue — “ it still 
remains a self-evident fact that dear little Alecia 
and her husband are going to leave us next week. 
There is no use in arguing with them, I know , 
mamma, and Marion and Cora and Bee — because 
when once the minds of those Grahams are made 
up to do a thing, that thing will they do if it is 
in human power. You couldn’t turn them any 
more than you could turn the crocodile’s tears 
to pearls !” 

“ But we can never get you ready to go in one 


106 John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 

week, ’Lecia!” cried Beatrice. “ You can’t go 
so soon. I shall tell Harold that it is impossible.” 

“ And the only benefit that you will derive 
from that information will be to learn that Harold 
takes Alecia’s word against the world, Mistress 
Bee!” said Cora. 

“ I descry 

That Cora and I 

At loggerheads will live and die!” 

said Beatrice, wickedly. “ Maybe I know just 
as much as you do about Alecia and Harold, 
Cora Field !” 

“ Maybe you do !” retorted Cora, with a signi- 
ficant shrug of her shoulders. “ But as Harold 
is coming, maybe it would be as well for you to 
keep that — and your doggerel — to yourself, Bee.’' 

“And this is no way to discuss Alecia’s going,” 
said Mrs. Field, gravely, endeavoring to be heard 
above this Babel of tongues. “ You girls are as 
bad as little children with your disagreements ; 
it is enough to drive one distracted to listen to 
you. One cannot talk connectedly or think with 
any common sense, among you. Come to my 
assistance, Harold, and bring order out of this 


Farewell. 


107 


chaos,” she added, as Graham paused in the 
doorway, his eyes seeking his wife, as they 
always sought her during this weary time. 
“ What shall I do to govern these chatterboxes 
when you and Alecia are gone — if you must go.” 

“You are kind,” he said, still with that strange, 
feverish restlessness of voice and manner, cross- 
ing to his wife. “ Yes we must go, Mrs. Field — 
and at once. I cannot endure this life much 
longer.” 

There was a fierceness in his voice that startled 
Alecia, although she was outwardly calm, look- 
ing up to him standing at her side. 

“ We will go, then, at once, dear,” she said. 

But farewell was a harder word to utter than 
they thought, during those hurried days of 
preparation. 

“ Still,” said Alecia, to her husband, when 
their lot seemed cast in specially hard places, 
“ think of how many friends we have proved 
true, Harold, dearest.” 

And she repeated this assurance to herself 
over and over, fighting to be brave, fighting to 
hide her own sadness. No one knew how she 
fought for that, unbetrayed in her comforting 


io8 John Winthrof s Defeat. 


words and strong faith. So the swift days of the 
week went by, and the day of departure was 
come, and Harold Graham and his wife were 
booked as passengers upon a Pacific mail steam- 
ship bound for Aspinwall on their way to Cali- 
fornia. 

“ It is scarcely yet time for autumn storms,” 
said Alecia, arguing down the fears of their 
friends ; “ and the sea change will be excellent 
for Harold. I have no fear of the water, you 
know. One grows to love it as one loves the 
hills as one gains confidence.” 

“ But I could never, never gain confidence,” 
protested Miss Bess Catherwood, emphatically. 
She was home from Fire Island and on deck, of 
course, to bid God-speed to her friends. 

“ Besides,” added Alecia, smiling, her eyes 
upon her husband’s haggard face and feverish 
eyes — alert always for his comforting — “ we will 
so enter by way of the Golden Gate into the 
city ; that augurs well for us, you see. One 
comes to watch for any chance good when there 
is need, Miss Catherwood.” 

“ You will not forget to write regularly to us 


Farewell. 


109 


all,” urged Cora, tearful at the last, as she clung 
for a moment about Alecia’s neck. 

“ I will not forget,” said Alecia, her own eyes 
not clear of tears. “ Is it likely that I should, 
Cora?” 

“ No,” said Cora, with a sudden inner convic- 
tion that parting was, after all, more to her sister 
than she would acknowledge. “ No ! Good-by, 
Alecia. Good-by, Harold. Bon voyage ! Bon 
voyage !” 

“ Good-by,” said Alecia, steadily — it seemed to 
her at times that she was growing incapable of 
showing emotion, from her constant struggle to 
master whatever was trying to others — her hands 
upon her husband’s arm, as their friends left 
them and the great ship weighed anchor and 
bore them slowly away to the new life, her face 
turned to them, watching them away, her hand- 
kerchief answering the flutter of handkerchiefs 
from those left behind in the home city. 

“ And now,” she added, by and by, as the bay 
lay before them and the ocean stretched ahead, 
the bustle on deck proving that in truth they 
were sailing away from all that was dear to a 


I TO 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


new life — “ and now, Harold, we must live for 
God and each other and have no fear.” 

“ You are my life’s angel !” he said, under 
his breath, but with his feverish vehemence. 
“There can but good come to me with you, 
even remembering what I have brought upon 
you.” 

One or two of the passengers promenading 
the deck, watching the sunset, turned to look 
after her as they passed by. One hand was 
upon his arm, the other rested lightly upon the 
rail. 

“ I refuse to hear any word against my hus- 
band,” she said, calmly. “ The Golden Gate for 
which we are bound may open pleasant lands 
for us, Harold. ‘The flowers of the west are 
still sweet, though the eastern gardens fall.’ 
Remember that, dearest.” 

“ And it shall be so !” said Harold Graham 
presently, with stern determination. “ Though 
Palmer Earle would grind me to the last for his 
debt, yet I will rise against him — against all that 
would oppose me — and gain a fortune and give 
you your old luxuries, and laugh at them, 
Alecia. I will not be put down ! 1 will show 


Farewell. 


1 1 i 


them that Harold Graham’s pride and ambition 
match even those of Palmer Earle !” 

“ But Mr. Earle was not so much to blame as 
his counsel, Harold,” said Alecia, her eyes upon 
the sunset heavens beyond the water and the 
receding land. “ Mr. Earle was willing to com- 
promise the matter, but Mr. Winthrop con- 
sidered it unwise. I think them both just men.” 

“ What have I to do with them,” said her hus- 
band, turning upon her suddenly and fiercely, 
“ in our new life, Alecia ? I shall prove my 
honor and my pride against theirs any day. 
There is no guilt upon me.” 

And then silence came upon him and his eyes 
turned from her face, for, like a black letter upon 
a snowy page, stood vividly out the struggle in 
that night of storm and blackness when he came 
so near yielding to the tempter, — when, to save 
himself, he would let His enemy drift from under 
his hand into eternity. And she, not knowing^ 
still trusted in and believed in him ; and he 
could not meet her eyes, but looked to the fiery 
sunset and was still. 

And the ship sailed through the nights and 
the days, bearing them to their new life and new 


1 12 


John Winthrof s Defeat . 


endeavor ; the darkness of night too tender to 
lift the veil that hid what lay ahead, and the 
sunshine of the soft autumn days shimmering 
upon the waters and dazzling the eyes that 
attempted to pierce the future. 

Only one day of storm struck them upon the 
voyage, and this was off the Gulf of Mexico, 
where white mists drifted in from the ocean and 
shrouded them about for one whole day and one 
long night, making it possible for death to loom 
upon them out of this fog at any moment in 
spite of the regular striking of the bell and the 
signals shown, and one morning the Gulf of 
California was spread before them like a 
sheet of gold, and the land stretching before 
them seemed full of promise. 

“ Still,” Gregory Bensonhurst said, anxiously, 
as he turned from watching the ship away upon 
the day of departure, “ I wish Graham took it 
easier. It isn’t his fault, this failure. The 
investments looked reasonably good. Of course, 
he put almost everything in, which was unwise ; 
but no one doubted its security until the crash 
came. I never saw any one take a thing to 
heart as he has this. I have been with him a 


Farezuell. 


1 T 3 


good deal, you know,” Miss Beatrice was listen- 
ing with bowed head as he walked beside her 
up the pier to the “ elevated ” station, “ and I 
have had an opportunity of judging.” 

“ I think that he cared most on Alecia's 
account,” said Marion, gravely. “ He is devoted 
to her, you know, Mr. Bensonhurst.” 

“ And in spite of our having to lose them, 
I am sure that they will be happy,” said Frances, 
the stillest of the group, her large eyes looking 
somewhat larger and darker out of her pale, 
calm face. “ Alecia would be herself if you set 
her in a jungle full of bears ; her heart will make 
sunlight anywhere.” 

“ Yes,” said Gregory Bensonhurst, turning 
kindly to her. “Your sister has a remarkable 
temperament, Miss Field. Change of fortune 
has not changed her except to make her still 
more lovely.” 

“ And she was lovely enough before,” said 
Miss Catherwood, mournfully, refusing to be 
comforted, even by her lover. “ 1 don’t see why 
those big-minded men, who tell us in books that 
trials are sent wisely to strengthen character, 
don’t put first and foremost — to make it more 


John Winthrop's Defeat . 


114 


true — that the very loveliest and strongest char- 
acters seem specially chosen to be tried !” 

“ They are almost always men who shut them- 
selves away from the world and only see people 
en masse anyway,” said Cora spitefully. “ When 
one comes to know people, the world seems 
dreadfully unequal in its fortunes and misfor- 
tunes — as though we were run through a mill 
and thrown in indiscriminately to come out as 
may happen !” 

“ Like the mills of the gods,” said Leland, 
laughing. “ The irony of fate is sometimes past 
any one’s perceptions, Miss Field !” 

‘‘And it doesn’t make any difference about 
your mills of the gods or the wisdom of the phil- 
osophers — just a lot of mean, horrid men, who 
think they know so much ! Alecia has gone !” 
cried Miss Catherwood, piteously. “ And I shall 
always feel that that Mr. Earle drove them away. 
They never, never would have gone but for 
him !” 

“ Yes,” retorted Cora, indignantly. “ He is a 
hateful man, Bess Catherwood, but he isn’t to be 
compared with that John Winthrop in meanness. 


Farewell \ 


“5 


It should be he who is driven away instead of 
Alecia and Harold.” 

Then they talked upon indifferent subjects until 
they reached the uptown station where they were 
to leave the train to cross town to Fifth Avenue. 
Here, as Beatrice and Bensonhurst were passing 
out of the gate, a gentleman hurrying up the 
stairs ran almost against them and turned to 
apologize. As he lifted his hat, glancing from 
Bensonhurst to Beatrice, after addressing him by 
name, a peculiar stiffness came over his manner. 
The girl’s quick eyes noted this, and turning to 
her companion, she asked abruptly : 

“Who is he, Mr. Bensonhurst? A strange 
face, is it not? You look as though you do not 
particularly love him. I didn’t know that you 
could be so cross !” 

A frown was upon his face as though his 
thought of the man was not the most pleasant ; 
but at her last words he laughed. 

“ Really, Miss Beatrice,” he said, “ you have 
not yet proved what a bear 1 can be ! But the 
gentleman you mention, although he occupies a 
position which many envy, is not envied by your 


1 1 6 John Winthrof s Defeat. 


humble servant, because he possesses your 
hatred. That, Miss Beatrice, is — John Win- 
throp 1” 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE OUTCOME. 

There are fatal days, indeed, 

In which the fibrous years have taken root 
So deeply, that they quiver to their tops 
Whene'er you stir the dust of such a day. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

Alecia said that the Golden Gate might open 
to them pleasant lands ; and, although she could 
not know what the future held in store, yet 
their friends, new and old, said that fate was 
specially good to Harold Graham, and that he 
was joint heir with Midas of old, for everything 
he touched seemed to turn to gold. 

Certainly, in a worldly sense, he was wonder- 
fully prospered. Part of Alecia’s diamonds had 
been advantageously disposed of, and their cir- 
cumstances were comfortable from the start, 


The Outcome . 


ri 7 


Little of luxury, indeed — and Harold Graham 
demanded luxury for happiness — but they wanted 
for nothing really essential. 

Nevertheless, Graham was not the man to be 
satisfied with this. He came to build up his 
fallen fortunes, he told her many times as excuse 
for his speculations ; and build them he would. 
In that he was also prospered. They chose San 
Francisco at first in which to live, and rented a 
charming house on a quiet street ; but as Harold 
grew more and more successful in his ventures he 
grew equally more restless and dissatisfied. And 
after a residence of four months in the city they 
left their new home and a pleasant circle of 
friends, which Alecia drew about her by her 
graciousness and beauty, and whom her husband 
attracted by his brilliance and success. 

From San Francisco they traveled through 
California, north and south, in places charming 
to see and good to live in ; among stretches of 
almond and orange orchards and vineyards royal 
with wealth ; and slopes alive with sheep ; hos- 
pitable people everywhere, and wonderful life; 
even the few poor remnants of the old Mexican 
families left in the rich lands of the south, in their 


t 1 8 John Winthrop's Defeat. 


tiny homes among the hills, opened their doors 
to the beautiful American woman, though no 
others of her countrywomen were welcomed ; 
and it was a wonderful life to Alecia, sad with 
the sorrow of a dying remnant of a great race, 
but sweet to know that they cared to have her 
go among them, and would tell her stories of the 
old gay life before the Americans came and 
they were crushed or driven out. 

Even her husband for a time regained his old 
spirit and geniality, but after the first, the old 
wound, unhealed, brought added restlessness and 
bitterness, and he would be satisfied with noth- 
ing ; and from one place to another, from ranch 
to town and village and back to the city again : 
and still fortune smiled upon them, and still 
Harold Graham could not be at rest or find 
peace. 

In their old home they had lived lavishly ; 
there had been nothing wanting that a luxurious 
taste could demand ; but in the new home money 
easily gained was as easily and recklessly spent, 
until it became a proverb among their friends 
that Graham’s wealth ebbed and flowed like the 
ocean’s tide, 


The Outcome. 


1 x 9 

He seemed never to think of the future or of 
the past. The wealth Alecia had hoped would 
be gained to meet the demand against her hus- 
band in the old home city he spent as quickly as 
it came to him, yet ever renewed it. No wish of 
hers that she uttered ever so lightly but he 
granted — save her one great wish to return to 
New York and her friends there, and to clear 
every claim against her husband. This wish was 
shut in her heart and he heard no word of her 
desire, for she would not ever place her wishes 
before his. 

But he knew that the thought was with her ; 
he could not know her as he knew her without 
being perfectly assured that her heart must long 
for the old familiar faces and voices and love. 
He loved her deeply, intensely; but even so, he 
felt that she must need the love of those who 
gave her love before he crossed her way. 

He spoke of it no more than she ; the subject 
fell by degrees into silence between them— for 
he even came to aver that he had no interest in 
the home-letters ; and she lived this inner life 
alone. It wore upon her, of course. The old 
color was something fainter and the light of the 


120 


John WinthroJ s Defeat . 


eyes less clear, though always quite steady. Her 
smile, too, was less frequent, though still very 
beautiful whenever it crossed her lips. 

Her husband’s genial nature changed percep- 
tibly as the days went by. He was always 
courteous to her; nothing came near her that 
could annoy or give her pain, so far as lay in his 
power to prevent ; but he grew irritable as his 
restlessness increased. Trifling things annoyed 
him. Sometimes his eyes frightened her with 
their feverish brilliancy, and a habit had grown 
upon him of raising his hand to his head half 
mechanically as though in pain when he was 
ever so slightly troubled or annoyed. 

Alecia noted this as she noted everything relat- 
ing to his welfare ; but she never dared speak of 
it to him. She waited and watched, and as this 
habit grew alarmingly, she went privately to a 
physician and questioned him as to the cause 
and possible danger. 

He listened in silence to her story. She told 
it very simply, but his quick perception grasped 
much that was left untold. He was perfectly 
courteous, but somewhat reticent. He under- 
stood the case as thoroughly as was possible, 


The Outcome , 


I 2 I 


having no acquaintance with the man profession- 
ally and being therefore obliged to judge upon 
general principles ; and he knew, also, that which 
he could not tell this woman. He could not 
meet her eloquent eyes and tell her, even soften- 
ing it as he would, that there could be but two 
courses for this disease, but one of two for him. 
Insanity or — death ! Her husband’s brain had 
been overtaxed ; his mind heavily shocked ; his 
sensitive nature sorely wounded. The change 
of air and scene had somewhat benefited him, 
but the end must be one of these two. 

Still, he only told her very learnedly of her 
husband’s heavily taxed mind and the necessity 
of perfect and immediate rest and freedom from 
care, regular hours and cheerful company and 
the abandonment of all business at once. 

She was quick to note the changes of voice 
or face, and there was something under this 
man’s quiet words that increased her fear. She 
questioned him closely, but gained no further 
information, save that there was absolutely no 
need of medicine other than rest and change and 
cheerful surroundings. And she went away 
feeling convinced that there was some illness 


122 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


upon her husband that this man would not make 
known to her — some illness of the mind — and 
for the first time during her absence from home, 
she was so utterly heart-sick that she dared not 
meet her husband until she had conquered the 
feeling. 

So she had the coachman leave the town and 
drive out into the more open country, where the 
silence might quiet her rebellious heart. 

They had been absent from home six months, 
and spring was over the land — if there can be 
spring-time in a land of perpetual summer. 
Beautiful Spring, indeed. Flowers by the way- 
side, rioting in the hedges, massed among the 
slopes further away — flowers every where. The 
sky was intensely blue and the sunlight soft, and 
under these tender influences peace came to the 
troubled heart. 

The days passed into weeks — three weeks — 
full of anxiety for Alecia. With her fears wak- 
ened by the physician’s words, she watched 
Harold unobserved. She forced herself to be 
light of heart and brilliant as of old ; she sang to 
him when he desired ; or read as he lay upon a 
couch, or was silent. She had always been true 


The Outcome, 


123 


to him and loving ; but there came now some 
deeper sense of danger that made her irresistible. 
Her husband watched her often in wonder. For 
she saw — even love could not blind her — that her 
husband was failing. 

Not rapidly ; not with any horrible disease, 
but growing weaker and more irritable and 
exacting ; never at rest anywhere ; his black 
eyes, always feverishly bright now, sometimes 
fastened upon her face with a half-vacant stare 
that made her heart sink, and sick. 

Until one day when the three weeks were gone, 
Harold Graham knew little and cared less for 
what was passing around him as he lay in a 
stupor born of the fever in his brain. He had 
no strength to resist this fever, the physician 
said, when summoned to attend him. They 
were back in San Francisco and had the best 
physicians in the city. Alecia’s friends, too, 
were with her in this their first chosen home of 
the West, and for this she was thankful. With 
her home friends miles away from her in this 
time of need, she could not have endured her 
sorrows were it not for these new friends, she 
said. 


124 


John W in t hr op's Defeat. 


The physicians were with Harold night and 
day, never leaving him alone with nurses, one or 
the other constantly beside him. No money \vas 
spared, no tenderness lacking. Alecia was near 
always, should they need her, but no one beside 
the physician was allowed in the sick-room. 

For three days and nights he knew no one ; 
lying in a stupor most of the time. Complete 
prostration the physicians said, and they scarcely 
had need to say it. 

Then — came the end. 

To every one save Alecia, this end had been 
expected ; to her it came like a blow. They 
told her that her husband was very ill at the 
beginning ; but when they told her that there 
was no longer hope of his recovery, that she 
must prepare herself for the worst, not a word 
did she utter, not a cry crossed her lips ; but 
with her eyes lifted to them in a terror that 
w2s the concentration of weary weeks of fear 
and watching, she sank at their feet in an uncon- 
sciousness as utter almost as that approaching 
silence in the room above. 

With the tenderest pity they raised her and 
restored her to consciousness, but it was long 


The Outcome. 


I2 5 


before she was able to go to her husband. He 
was himself, they told her, and desired to see 
her. And then, with her strong will set against 
her weakness, she regained her self-command, 
and went up to him without a word of mourn- 
ing or regret, but with an expression in her eyes 
that was worse than the wildest sorrow. 

The sun was setting and the golden rays stole 
softly into the room through the half-closed 
blinds and lace draperies as Alecia entered. 
She wore a gown of pale-blue cashmere, with 
creamy lace upon it, and flowers at her belt — 
still thinking of his pleasure ! — and her eyes were 
steady and sweet as they met his instantly upon 
entering the room. Her face was pale, but the 
smile that lighted it for him was the old radiant 
smile that had come to him like the thought of 
an angel across the wild waste of w'aters when 
the demon struggled in his heart. He thought 
of it, meeting her eyes, for he was thoroughly 
conscious, and his mind strangely clear. He 
thought of it, but it brought no pain ; for pain 
seemed to have gone utterly from his life, and 
only an unaccountable peace to have come to him. 

Still too weak for independent movement, he 


126 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


tried to stretch his hand to her, a slow, faint 
glimmer of smiling answering hers ; and going 
to him, not a quiver of her face or voice, she 
knelt beside the bed, and taking one of his hands 
in hers, laid the other tenderly about him, her 
face upon the pillow close to his. 

“ Harold, dearest,” she said, very sweetly, 
very low, “ you are better now ? It is good to 
see you yourself and know that you recognize 
Alecia again. I have been so very lonely with- 
out you V 

An ineffable tenderness came upon his face. It 
was as though life, fading, proved why life was 
given and taken — its pathos and trials and sweet- 
ness crowded into one moment’s space. He was 
intensely weak, but his mind was clear. When 
he spoke his voice was so indistinct that she 
nestled her cheek softly and tenderly closer to 
his, that she might not lose the words. The 
mad beating and rebellion of her heart he did 
not know. 

“ Poor little girl !” he said, faintly. “ What a 
good, true, brave wife you have been to me 
when many women would have been— different ! 
How can I leave you, my dearest — here in a 


The Outcome. 


12 7 


strange city, with no one but strangers to com- 
fort you ! For I am not deceived, Alecia. This 
strange clearness of mind and the absence of 
pain are the end. My life might have been 
braver, more true, perhaps ; but some way every- 
thing is falling into peace. I can wish nothing 
save that I might have left you among those who 
love you. It is hard to die— who knows? I 
suffer no pain. Your courage gives me courage 
and hope. But — presently — you will go home, 
dearest, and there will come — this peace also to 
you — and the old wounds will heal — ” 

His voice died out, but still tenderly and 
steadfastly her fingers held his, and her cheek 
pressed lightly the pillow scarce whiter than the 
lighted face. 

“ It was cruel to keep you here,” he added 
presently, his voice scarcely a whisper, with the 
fading life. “ I knew that you — longed — for the 
old home faces, darling. Now — you will go to 
them. God bless you and be with you — always ! 
And if — in that infinite world — ” 

And then came silence unbroken ; and Alecia 
Graham was alone with a breaking heart, too 
stunned to realize what had fallen upon her. 


128 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


CHAPTER X. 

“ AND AFTER.” 

The light of life dying from Harold Graham’s 
face as the lilac sunset faded from the heavens, 
left upon the face of his wife the leaden pallor 
that is worse than death. For a half hour she 
remained kneeling beside the bed, unable to 
believe that never any more would her husband’s 
voice or smile stir her heart ; never any more 
would his eyes seek hers for comfort; never any 
more would he reach out weary arms to com- 
fort her. Never any more ! 

Her face like marble resting beside that other 
face, that a few minutes ago was alive and brave 
for her, and now was fast falling into peaceful 
lines after the last struggle for breath, was 
immovable as though that, too, had been touched 
by the Death Angel, save that life’s bitterness 
stirred the soul’s Marah waters to the dregs. 
Her eyes were wide and strained, and her lips 
apart, as though she were holding her breath to 
watch for an awakening in the quiet face before 


“ And After T 


129 


her. One arm still lay about him, and one hand 
held resolutely his cold fingers. 

She was not disturbed by any one, for who 
outside that room could know that death had 
come in unto her, although they knew that death 
was close at hand ; and the silence of the room 
lay like a burden upon the heart throbbing pas 
sionately with grief and love and loneliness in 
the kneeling woman’s breast, until she could no 
longer endure the heavy repression, and rose to 
her feet, fighting back her tears, crushing down 
any cry, shutting proudly and patiently the 
sweet, grieved lips. 

She bent above her husband, standing at the 
bedside, and searched the still face. With one 
trembling, tender hand she brushed back the 
black hair from his forehead, still holding her 
breath as though she could not believe that he 
were dead. 

“ Harold !” she said steadily, scarcely above a 
whisper, “ Harold, dearest!” 

But he did not answer — she knew now that he 
could not answer — and all the pent-up sorrow 
and pain were for one instant concentrated in 
her face, her self-command gone, a bitter cry 


130 


John Win t hr op's Defeat. 


upon her lips as she clasped her hands convul- 
sively, driving herself away from him. 

“ Then,” she cried, sobbingly, though there 
were no tears in the lifted eyes ; “ bear witness 
for me that it is John Winthrop, in his pride and 
arrogance, has brought this sorrow upon me.” 

Then, with a swift, bitter gesture of the hands, 
as though she would sweep away this weakness, 
and begin her lonely life with the old proud sil- 
ence, she turned away steadily, her face calm 
and cold, and passed out at the door, the folds of 
her gown trailing about her, and the flowers at 
her belt crushed and falling like her hopes. 

Perfectly self-contained, perfectly calm, steady 
of voice and manner as she rejoined her waiting 
friends in the rooms below — no tears upon her 
lashes, no grief upon her face. 

“ She does not care!” whispered some among 
her friends, eying her askance. “ Perhaps it is 
true that her husband did not make her so 
happy as he should.” 

But the physicians, wiser in their science than * 
her friends in their love, said that this calm was 
worse than a storm of tears, and unless she were 
roused, she, too, would die. 


“And After.” 


131 

Some days previously the physicians warned 
her friends to notify her relatives in the East of 
the approaching sorrow that would fall upon 
her, and to urge them, if possible, to come at 
once to her. Following this advice, a message 
was sent, startling them indeed, for Alecia had 
not mentioned her husband’s illness — with her 
usual thoughtfulness of them — lest it cause 
them unhappiness to learn that other grief had 
come. 

But Alecia, moving quietly among her friends, 
knew nothing of this message, and her heart was 
heavy with longing for some dear home face and 
voice and touch. For how could she know that 
a westward-speeding train was bringing to her 
two from her home ? 

Her mother and Beatrice! All home-faces 
were very dear, but these two from among them 
holding warmest place in her heart. 

And when preparations were completed for 
conveying the body home, and the widow in her 
heavy crape — still more a woman of marble by 
contrast— showed no sign of softness or grief, 
then into the midst of the friends gathered for 
farewell came these two dear faces ; and Alecia, 


132 


John Winthrof s Defeat . 


with sudden revulsion of feeling was sobbing 
in her mother’s arms ; and Beatrice, mourning 
above her sister, would not be comforted in the 
tenderness and warmth of her young heart. 

“ Poor little ’Lecia ! Poor little 'Lecia !” she 
kept sobbing. 

But the mother said never a word. Her heart 
went out to the sad heart of her daughter — both 
widows — and what could words utter more than 
the loving arms, and tender, silent caresses ? 

So they took her home — a sad home-coming — 
and every tenderness that love could devise was 
gathered around the woman who had made sun- 
shine for so many that in her time of need was 
reflected back upon her ; and the days dragged 
by ; and never any hour the less or more because 
of her grief ; never the shadow of one star or one 
sun because her life was darkened ; never one 
instant’s pause in the world about her because 
love lay dead in her heart. 

Infinitely tender to her, comprehensive of look 
or word ; shielding her, petting her, loving her 
— how could she fail to respond with gentleness 
and renewed bravery of spirit? The weight of 
misfortune and heavy care did not crush her 


“And After. 


*33 


from life as it had the proud spirit of her hus- 
band ; but she was very weary and weak, and 
unable to lift her life as brightly as of old for 
many long days. But she fought that, too, as 
she fought anything that could darken the hap- 
piness of others ; and by and by, as is life’s way 
of healing open wounds that at first bleed so bit- 
terly, relief came to her; a tender patience; a 
loyal faith. Not for many a long day — indeed, 
not for weeks and months ; but time and love are 
merciful, or there could be neither time nor love 
for any wounded heart. 

“We will go to Europe,” said Mrs. Field, one 
day, as they sat in conversation in the breakfast- 
room, when the service was removed and they 
were alone. “ The girls are not satisfied with 
their trip last fall, and it will be excellent for 
you, Alecia, dear. We can remain away as long 
as you desire, and take in the East. You need 
utter change, my dear.” 

Alecia smiled. 

“ Tuscany,” said Marion, kindly, a new light in 
her eyes, for Marion loved the outside world 
better than home quiet — “ Tuscany will rest you, 
Alecia, and bring back the old color to your 


134 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


cheeks. Where else is there such light or color, 
or beauty ?” 

“ As though you could judge of that !” said 
Cora, with a flash of her black eyes. “ I think if 
Alecia desires real change and brightness she 
will be much more certain of it in Paris — ” 

“ Paris !” replied Marion, in her calm, superior 
way, “ is no place for one to regain color or quiet, 
Cora. I know Alecia better than to mention 
such a place. If you are going for the express 
purpose of showing your bright eyes and make 
captive slaves, you had much better remain at 
home, my coquette !” 

“ I am not a coquette !” protested Cora, with 
sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. “ But if you 
expect me to be very calm and horribly dignified 
— like yourself, Marion Field — 1 can’t be ! It is 
too good to be happy — ” 

She checked her thoughtless speech self- 
reproachfully, as she caught the dull hue of her 
sister’s mourning, the flush deepening uncom- 
fortably in her cheeks, her lips quivering as ask- 
ing pardon for her unintentional wounding. 

But Alecia smiled kindly upon her, no thought 
of reproach in her heart. 


“ And After 


i35 


“ I think that Paris suits little Corienne admir- 
ably,” she said. Corienne was their pet name 
for the girl. “ And Maid Marion in her blonde 
beauty suits well the Tuscan sunsets. If we are 
to travel at our own sweet will, mamma, why 
not gratify all the girls ? I shall be glad to go 
for a year or two. I believed myself braver 
than I have proved. 1 long to run away as far 
from the old memories — oh, as far as ever the 
world could take me ! Absence, perhaps, will 
give me strength." 

“ Dear little ’Lecia !” murmured Beatrice, her 
hand surreptitiously patting her sister’s hand. 
“Just as though the dear thing could be any- 
thing but brave.” 

“ But I am not brave, Bee,” Alecia said steadily, 
softening her words with a smile. “ You do not 
know how really hard and wicked I am some, 
times. I cannot see that all is best — always — 
when so much is difficult. I think that Harold 
kept me from this harshness of judgment by his 
kindness to all, but now that I have to judge for 
myself, I place him in the balance, and I cannot 
see justly.” 

No tears in her eyes or voice ; no mournful 


136 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


note along any word ; nothing but sweetness and 
tenderness. She did not shut out her husband’s 
name from conversation, as some let fall silence 
over a loved one dead ; she kept his memory 
fresh and true and sweet in the hearts of all ; a 
friend dear, and gone away for a time, but not 
lost. 

“ Like Justice with a bandage over her eyes,” 
said Beatrice, tenderly. “ Such sweet eyes, 
Alecia.” 

“ And still it isn’t settled,” said Marion, 
remindingly. Marion did not court sympathy, 
and shunned manifestation of it in others. 
“ Where are we to go, mamma ?” 

“We will go to Tuscany,” said Mrs. Field, 
quietly, “ for the summer, and any other place 
you girls desire. Then, for the winter, we will 
go to Paris. After that we will turn eastward 
and take in Egypt and the Nile and the old 
cities. When the two years have passed I think 
we will all be rather glad to see the old home.” 

“ ‘ There's no place like home/” 

hummed Beatrice, lightly. “ Even among the 
* pleasures and palaces ’ of Paris, Corienne.” 


And After." 


137 


“ And as the Etruria sails in two weeks, let us 
go in her,” said Frances, “if we can get ready.” 

“ Of course we can get ready,” said Cora, 
gayly, delighted at the prospect of a winter in 
the gay French city. “ I would be ready to 
start to-morrow if I could.” 

“ And mourn for the remainder of the time 
because of the dresses you had forgotten,” said 
Beatrice, contemptuously, “ and your perfumes 
and laces.” 

“ You forget that there must be time for 
sleep,” retorted Cora, not to be ruffled by their 
badinage, her heart too gay. “ I’d have to sleep 
sometimes, saucy May Bee, for even June roses 
need sleep the entire winter to be sweet in 
spring.” 

“ Even if ‘ the rose by any other name would 
smell as sweet,’ ” echoed Gregory Bensonhurst, 
regarding them quizzically in the doorway. “ I 
beg your pardon, Mrs. Field, but your footman 
told me that I should find you here, and I had 
no intention of eavesdropping. And here’s Dil- 
lingham, too, if it is early for calling ! Mayn’t 
we please come right in here — you look so 


138 John Win thro ft's Defeat. 


homelike ! And why, if I may inquire, was Miss 
Cora putting the roses to sleep as we came in ?” 

“ So you are going away,” he said, by and by, 
when he and Dillingham were made to under- 
stand out of a babel of chatter and bewildering 
eyes and pretty morning-gowns. “ And for two 
years ? What a programme you have laid out ! 
Enough to make a have-to-stay-at-home fellow 
like me green with envy. It is delightful of 
course — for you — but we will sadly miss you.” 

Doubtless he was sincere in this inclusive 
speech, but it was perhaps only chance that his 
eyes should rest especially upon Beatrice in 
uttering the last words of regret ; and it was, of 
course, but chance that Beatrice’s bright face 
should grow rosier and shyer under his eyes. 

“ Oh, but then you know it is only for two 
years, Mr. Bensonhurst — I could wish it were 
ten,” cried Cora, vivaciously. “ I wish I might 
live in Paris forever — I love it so !” 

“ It suits you, Miss Field,” said Harry Dilling- 
ham, smiling. “It is an appropriate setting for 
a jewel. I, too, am fond of Paris, but in the 
long run give me old New York.” 

“ Yes,” said Frances, brightening into new 


“ And After. 


139 


beauty from her reserve. “ I am too patriotic to 
love Paris or Tuscany or anywhere better than 
America. But,” her voice was more quiet now, 
for all eyes were upon her, and Frances seldom 
showed her real self to many, “ if there is any 
place across the ocean almost as near my heart as 
home, it, is Scotland with her lakes and hills and 
warm hearts. The clans, you know, sound so 
strong and friendly. I shall insist upon going 
there, mamma, if I have any choice.” 

“ Of course you will have choice, Miss 
Frances,” said Dillingham, with comical earnest- 
ness. “ It is only fellows like Bensonhurst and 
I who have no choice ! One might find it in 
one’s heart to wish there were no choice but for 
you to remain at home, if it were not too unkind ! 
One should wish one’s friends bon voyage , and 
not regrets !” 

“ And you are glad to go as well as they,” said 
Gregory Bensonhurst, standing apart from the 
others with Beatrice, at one of the long windows, 
where the lace draperies fell between them and 
the outer room, the inner curtains of yellow silk 
a vivid background for the girl’s face with its 
eloquent lifted hazel eyes. “ It will be pleasant 


140 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 

for you, Miss Beatrice. Only," his voice was 
very winning, “ you are not to forget old friends 
for new. Promise me that !” 

“ A promise easily given and easily kept, Mr. 
Bensonhurst,” she answered, lightly. He should 
not be allowed to guess that she cared more than 
the others. “ One never forgets old faces if they 
are faces of friends. One's memory should be a 
pleasant storehouse of good things to fall back 
upon when there is need. Who said that ? Some 
one, I am sure, for it never originated with me. 
Pm not a bit wise, you know." 

Silence for a moment save for the light con- 
versation and laughter of those within the room. 

“ I understand that Harold’s old enemy goes 
abroad to-morrow with his mother,” said 
Gregory then, in an undertone, slowly as though 
it were an unpleasant duty. “ I thought it best 
for you to know, Miss Beatrice. It would not 
be wise for Mrs. Graham to meet him with her 
husband’s loss so recently upon her mind. She 
blames John Winthrop for that, you know — as 
we all do, more or less, though I believe he 
thought himself right. At first when I learned 
of your going, I must confess my regret. How- 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate. 14 1 


ever, of course, it is only one of fate’s happen- 
ings, and you may not meet.” 

The girl’s head was lifted haughtily in the full 
light of the window ; her eyes were black as 
midnight with emotion ; her red lips curled with 
ineffable scorn. One white hand was lying 
lightly upon the window ledge ; with the other 
she held back the lace and silk draperies. Both 
were clenched. 

“ Fate is sometimes kind, Mr. Bensonhurst,” 
she said, “ and if ever John Winthrop is placed 
in my path, so that I can wound him, be assured 
that I shall not forget what Alecia has suffered 
through him. Remember that, and you need 
not fear for her.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

A TURN IN THE WHEELS OF FATE. 

Palmer Earle and his wife sent a somewhat 
formal but kind letter of condolence to Mrs. 
Graham upon her return from the west after her 
husband’s death. His wife also called upon 


142 


John Winthrof s Defeat. 


Mrs. Graham and the Fields before their depart- 
ure for Europe. 

They were not hard-hearted people — the Earles 
— and apart from Palmer Earle’s unfortunate 
business connection with Harold, they bore no 
ill-will — certainly not toward Mrs. Graham. 

To be sure, Palmer Earle was Harold 
Graham’s heaviest creditor, and lost a large 
amount of money through the failure, and for 
him to concede as much as he had in writing to 
her at all, or for his wife to call upon them, was 
even more than one could require. 

But Alecia did not like them, and could not 
bring herself to do so, although she was perfectly 
courteous, if a trifle more haughty than usual, 
when Mrs. Palmer Earle called upon her ; and, 
of course, in this, as in all else pertaining to 
Alecia and Harold, the Fields gave her due 
honor, particularly Beatrice. Beatrice even 
went so far as to protest that she would have, for 
her part, somewhat despised Alecia had she liked 
the Earles after Palmer Earle’s treatment of her 
husband. But even then none of them knew 
that Palmer Earle owed his life to Harold 
Graham, for Alecia decided not to disclose the 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate. 143 


fact unless there were occasion, as it was her 
husband’s wish that this creditor should remain 
in ignorance of the debt he owed in turn, and 
because her mother and sisters and friends would 
be made the more bitter against the man. And 
as it was, they were bitter enough, indeed. 

John Winthrop also sent a letter of condolence 
to Mrs. Graham, but he did not venture to call 
upon her. John Winthrop was comparatively a 
stranger in the city at the time of Graham’s 
failure. His home was among the Berkshire 
Hills, and he had studied law and practiced it in 
Boston. Recommended to New York by an old 
friend of his father, and with a powerful letter of 
introduction to Palmer Earle and other influ- 
ential business men, he left Boston and came to 
New York, his mother — his father being dead — 
remaining alone in the old homestead with two 
or three faithful servants and Jessica Gray, a 
ward of her son. 

Up to the time of the failure of Graham, then, 
John Winthrop had few acquaintances in the 
city. Palmer Earle indorsed him utterly, and 
Palmer Earle’s word was law among most ; but, 
socially, John Winthrop kept rather proudly 


144 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


apart. Consequently, he dared not venture to 
call upon Mrs. Graham, although he had lately 
gained not only the acquaintance, but the friend- 
ship of many of Alecia’s friends. 

But he wrote to her. 

Few words he wrote her, indeed ; stern and 
somewhat cold, but simplest regret for her 
sorrow. He could scarcely have done less, and 
he would do no more. 

The effect of his letter upon Beatrice was 
decidedly electrifying to her family. All the 
girls had a good deal to say in relation to his 
audacity after his behavior in regard to her hus- 
band ; but Beatrice was most vehement in her 
anger, as she sprang to her feet, facing Alecia. 

“ I hate him !” she cried, breathlessly. “ There 
is no need for me to tell you that I hate him. 
Let me have his letter. Let me tear it to 
pieces, Alecia. I cannot endure that you should 
have even that of his in your possession. And 
some day he may learn how I hate him.” 

“ I think that you misjudge him, Bee, dear,” 
said Alecia, drawing the excited girl down beside 
her, and rumpling caressingly the soft curls upon 
her forehead. “ I must own that I do not like 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate . 145 


Mr. Winthrop — how could I? — but I think he 
follows to the letter his standard of honor. Even 
though he was Harold's enemy, we must b® just 
to him." 

“ And unless you curb your temper, Bee," 
said Marion, calmly, “ you will some day spoil 
your life." 

“ Nevertheless," said Cora, laughing, “ I 
believe that I would thoroughly enjoy hearing 
Spitfire lecture Lawyer Granite! She would 
strike sparks from even his flint if any one 
could. I rather think he would clench those 
strong hands of his, longing to choke the words 
back in her teeth." 

“ And just to disturb that hateful calm of his, 
I would do much," cried Beatrice, in a muffled 
voice, with Alecia’s soft hands laid upon her 
rebellious lips. 

“ And to know that he goes to Europe, too, 
makes me almost willing to give up Paris," 
added Cora, with puckered brows and lips. 
“ It will be just our fate to stumble upon them 
somewhere! His mother, and some ward or 
other go with him, you know. I wonder what 
they are like ?" 


146 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


“ Perhaps,” suggested Marion, with her 
superior air, “ his mother is a softening influ- 
ence, Cora, and his ward some tormenting 
creature — like yourself — who will torture him 
sufficiently even to satisfy your cannibal pro- 
pensities, with her eyes and coquetting. At 
least if it will afford you comfort to believe this, 
it might be an excellent plan to try.” 

But John Winthrop and his failings were for- 
gotten for the time in the rush of preparations 
for the journey ; and the day of departure came, 
and Mrs. Graham, with the Fields and Kathryn 
Franklin and Althea Dunraven, sailed in the 
Etruria . 

For a couple of weeks they lingered in Lon- 
don, and then went up to Scotland in accordance 
with the desire of Frances, whose deep nature 
was touched by the picturesque scenery and the 
strong clan prejudices. Thence, touching at 
Paris, on to Tuscany to rest for the summer. 
In the early autumn they went to Italy, to 
Rome and Florence ; and as the season opened 
in Paris, they established themselves there for 
the winter ; in the spring they would start east- 
ward, and, returning, would give Cora another 


A Turn iu the Wheels of Fate . 147 


season in the French city ere they returned 
home. 

Harold Graham had a sister, a Mrs. Montague 
Glendenning, his only near living relative, who, 
in spite of the censure of her brother’s careless- 
ness, believed him the handsomest and most per- 
fect gentleman the world contained, next to her 
husband. She argued spiritedly and well to 
prove him blameless, and her love for Alecia 
was as warm and whole-souled as that she held 
for her brother. 

Consequently, residing just out of Paris in a 
delightful house, La Bijou , Mrs. Montague 
Glendenning considered it her bounden duty 
and pleasure to hold a grand reception to her 
hosts of friends, that so they might meet these 
friends of hers from over the water and break 
the solitude that hangs about strangers in such 
a brilliant city. 

Her plan proving even more of a success than 
she had hoped, this reception was but the first 
of a series of brilliant entertainments for the 
benefit of the charming American family and 
their friends. Cora, of course, was quite reck- 
less as to the number of her admirers ; and 


148 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


Marion, in her blonde repose, set off this gay 
sister as a lily sets off a rose ; while beautiful, 
impulsive Beatrice, with Althea and Kathryn, 
made up as delightful a group as one could 
desire. Mrs. Field often refused to join their 
gayeties, declaring that she would be worn to 
skin and bone if she attempted to follow their 
life ; but Mrs. Glendenning, more than pleased 
with Alecia’s relatives, was ready to act as 
chaperon for the group of American beauties. 

Alecia, in her recent grief, could not join 
these numberless dissipations, and spent much 
of her time with her mother, in driving about 
the city and examining the public buildings. 
Among the guests at their own house she formed 
the centre of a group of admiring friends and 
acquaintances, anxious to be admitted into her 
favor; and among her young, bright, light- 
hearted sisters Alecia was in some unaccountable 
manner set on a higher level and sought as one 
whom it was well to know. Her beauty, her 
grace and gracious sweetness, combined with 
the cause of her quiet dress, drew many about 
her — men and women — whom the most exclusive 
would be honored to know. 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate . 149 


Frances very often joined this circle, for 
Frances enjoyed a more intellectual set of friends 
than Marion or Cora or Beatrice. Like Alecia, 
she drew people on to know more of her. She 
was a fascinating woman without the aid of her 
sister’s coquetting or independence or hauteur. 

So the winter passed, and summer came with 
lingering along charming shores and in the outer 
villages ; glimpses into the shriveled mysteries 
of Egypt mingled with quotations from Shakes- 
peare from the pretty lips of the girls and the 
escorts, who formed a delightful party to travel 
with the Fields ; and, as the second winter came 
upon them, it found them once more in Paris and 
the whirling world of fashion. 

Alecia, during this time, had regained her old 
brilliance, although there was an undercurrent 
of sorrow that gave added charm to her manner 
and conversation. She mingled more with the 
social life this season, and there were those who 
whispered that the beautiful American widow 
might accept more than one suitor, were she so 
disposed. But Alecia’s heart was still her hus- 
band’s, and her worldly knowledge saved her many 
friends who might have been turned from her 


I 5° John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


had she given them the opportunity of offering her 
more than friendship. She could be reserved* as 
well as attractive, these men learned, and few were 
changed from warm friendship by words of love. 

So far, nowhere had the Winthrops crossed 
the path of the Fields, and for this Alecia was 
grateful. 

Not that she had forgotten John Winthrop — 
her husband’s enemy, as she called him in her 
thought — for forgetfulness of him meant forget- 
fulness of her old memory. She did think of 
him. Still, Alecia Graham never spoke ol John 
Winthrop. Her friends would have scorned to 
bring his name into their happy life. Silence 
settled over his place in their memory. But 
silence did not denote forgetfulness. 

Beatrice had neither forgotten nor forgiven 
him, although she, too, never spoke of him. She 
and Gregory Bensonhurst had been faithful in 
the correspondence agreed upon between them 
during the stay abroad, and to him Beatrice 
poured out her vials of wrath against the man in 
words few but fierce. Gregory Bensonhurst 
often smiled over these bits of a fierce spirit in 
the warm-hearted girl whom he loved — for that 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate . 1 5 1 


he loved Beatrice Field he discovered during his 
close friendship with the family at the time of 
Harold’s failure. There was so much that was 
lovable and womanly and tender about her that 
this implacable hatred toward John Winthrop 
was past comprehending. 

“We have not yet met that hateful Mr. Win- 
throp,” she wrote one day toward the end of the 
second winter. “ You say his mother and Miss 
Gray are still here, although the ogre himself is 
back at his grinding of hearts ! Had we met 
him — or them — I assure you it would have 
soured every drop of the sweetness in Parisian 
sugar plums ! He would turn even the Sweet- 
water River of our Rockies into the bitterness 
of Marah ! It would be a wintery day when we 
met. Though he were dying, I would not lift 
my hand to save him ! There is a rumor — deli- 
ciously faint — that an American family has arrived 
in Paris for a flying glimpse of sugar-plums. If 
it is he — ” 

She ended abruptly after a heavy dash of her 
pen : 

“ Your modern Beatrice Cenci Field.” 


52 


John WinthroJ s Defeat. 


And Gregory Bensonhurst understood that if 
ever the opportunity came for Beatrice Field to 
be kind to John Winthrop, she would remember 
what Alecia had suffered through him. 

So far, however, nothing special had occurred 
save Marion’s engagement to a wealthy New 
Yorker who had followed them to Europe and 
had won her there ; and Kathryn Franklin’s 
engagement and innumerable quarrels and 
reconciliations with an American artist in Rome, 
who often neglected his studies to be with the 
charming woman of his choice. 

But one morning Beatrice and Mrs. Glenden- 
ning were shopping. They had but just left the 
“ Belle Jardiniere.” Beatrice was chatting 
delightedly of the beauties they had seen, when 
she paused suddenly, grasping her companion’s 
arm with a stifled exclamation. 

An elderly woman, who left the gay shop just 
ahead of them, had been vainly striving to attract 
the attention of her coaphman, who, engaged in 
flirtation with a pretty nursery maid, seemed 
quite to have forgotten his duty. He had driven 
up and down, waiting for his mistress, and had 
paused on the opposite side of the street. Find- 


A Turn in the Wheels of Fate . 153 


in g her effort in vain, the woman attempted to 
cross the street, regardless of the passing car- 
riages, and stumbling, would have fallen under 
the hoofs of an approaching team, had not Bea- 
trice sprung forward and pulled her away and 
back upon the pavement. 

An officer close at hand started to rescue her, 
but Beatrice had waited for no assistance. The 
coachman, now aware of the neglect of his duty, 
was at hand, and the girl assisted the trembling 
woman into the carriage, pausing a moment to 
learn if she were comfortable ere she left her. 

Then, as Beatrice was turning away, the lady 
in the carriage said, very softly and sweetly, lean- 
ing forward, one gentle hand upon the light 
fingers on the carriage door, the quaint language 
she used sounding strangely on the gay street : 

“ Does thee mind giving me thy name, my 
dear ? It will be good to remember the name of 
my brave friend when I think of her.” 

Beatrice smiled, her eyes bright with the swift 
touch of tears at sound of this sweet home 
tongue. She bent her head with half-shy grace, . 
like a child. 

“ I am Beatrice Field,” she said, softly, leaning 


*54 


John Winthrops Defeat. 


nearer her new acquaintance, forgetting, in the 
excitement of the moment, that Mrs. Glenden- 
ning still waited, “ from New York. We start 
for home to-morrow. You are quite comfortable 
now, madam ? I may safely leave you ?” 

The answering smile on the sweet old face was 
like a ray of home love and truth in that brilliant 
street. 

“ I am quite comfortable ; yes, thank thee, dear. 
I am Mary Winthrop. My home is in the Berk- 
shire Hills of America. If thee would give me 
thy address, my son John will wish to thank thee 
for thy kindness to his mother. John is a lawyer 
in thy New York, too.” 

But Beatrice was suddenly withdrawn from 
her frank cordiality. Removing her hand from 
the carriage door and from under the touch of 
the other’s soft fingers, as though a serpent had 
stung her, she stepped back upon the pavement, 
a scornful curve on her lips, a world of anger in 
the hazel eyes. 

“ I beg your pardon, madam,” she said, coldly ; 
“ but if you will tell your son for me that, had 
she known whom she was saving, Beatrice Field, 
Alecia Graham’s sister, would not have lifted 


“It JVas Not She !” He Said. 155 


her hand for you, I scarcely think that he will 
care to thank me. I bid you good-morning, 
madame.” 

And like a priestess of vengeance she turned 
away. 


CHAPTER XII. 

“IT WAS NOT SHE!” HE SAID. 

“ Well, girls !” 

Beatrice paused upon the threshold of Alecia’s 
room, where her mother and sisters and their 
friends were assembled. Beatrice was dressed 
still in her street-costume, as she stood before 
them, but this was not the Beatrice who left the 
house not long before. 

“ Listen to me ! I have been standing on the 
heights of Olympus this morning ! I have 
breathed at the mist-shrouded entrance of Del- 
phi r 

A sensation stirred the group before her ; even 
Marion turned her calm eyes upon her, question- 
ingly. 


1 56 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


“ What is it, Bee ?” queried her mother, some- 
what sternly ; for Beatrice was sometimes too 
childishly impulsive, her mother said. “ If you 
have been to Delphi, surely you have gained a 
little wisdom, my dear!” 

“ Not an atom of wisdom !” said Beatrice 
shutting her red lips as though she crushed down 
some fury of feeling. “ Only proof of an old 
saying, mamma !” 

“ What old saying, Bee? You must learn to 
be more definite in expression, and have more 
self-control. I did hope that this trip would 
benefit you in that way, child.” 

“ And it hasn’t ? Say the truth right out, 
mamma — I don’t mind !” replied the girl, though 
a vivid red spot burned in each smooth cheek, 
and a flame was in her eyes, as though the Olym- 
pian goddess had touched her there with fire. 
“ But the old saying that I specially meant, 
mamma, is of the ‘ mills of the gods ’ that grind 
so slowly ! The spider-like wheels of their 
machinery made a revolution to-day under my 
hands!” 

Mrs. Field sighed over this incorrigible girl ; 
Cora laughed ; Marion shrugged her shoulders 


“ It Was Not She!” He Said. 157 


disdainfully and raised her eyebrows ; Kathryn 
and Althea and Frances waited expectantly. 

Alecia reached out her hand to her sister. 

“ You dramatic child ! Come here at once and 
explain/’ she said. 

Beatrice shook her head. 

" I haven’t much to say,” she replied, steadily. 
“ I prefer standing here where I can easily escape 
should horror seize you. 1 have avenged you to 
some extent this morning, Alecia Graham. 1 
saved the life of some one at the ‘ Belle Jardi- 
niere.’ ” 

“ You , Bee Field ? Whose life was it ?” 

A clamor of tongues ; interested faces now in 
place of quietly attentive faces. Even Mrs. Field 
forgot her annoyance at the girl’s heedlessness. 

“ What do you mean, Beatrice?” 

“ Guess !” 

“ I’m a Yankee, but I can’t,” said Kathryn, 
laughing. “ Tell us, Bee, like a good child.” 

“ Guess !” repeated Beatrice, with that slow, 
stern shutting of the lips that came only with 
intense anger or excitement. 

Perhaps the one name was in the minds of all, 
suggested by the girl’s face ; but only Althea 


158 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


Dunraven had the hardihood to utter it in her 
soft, pretty voice. 

“ John Winthrop, Bee ?” 

Beatrice shook her head. Her lips were cruel 
now. She turned her eyes upon Althea like a 
flash of blazing anger. 

“Not John Winthrop. No, Althea; but next 
best — his mother !” 

Utter, dead silence for a moment. Then 
Alecia asked, a sweet light upon her face : 

“ Brave little Bee ! How did you do it, dear?” 

Beatrice made a swift, fierce gesture with her 
hands, as though she were pushing down some 
rising enemy. The stern lips would not soften 
even before the light in her sister’s face. The 
flame in the hazel eyes deepened them to black. 
Her voice was like steel when she spoke — not 
the bright voice of impulsive Beatrice Field. 

“ How did I do it, Alecia? You ask me? But 
first I must tell you the truth. You shall not 
think that I would have lifted my hand for her 
had I dreamed who she was — for I would not. I 
told you long ago how I hate that man — her 
son ! This woman should have died, trampled 
under the hoofs of the horses, for all me, had I 


“ It Was Not She f" He Said. 159 


known that she was his mother ! Such cruel 
natures have no right in this world. No ! I did 
not know until — afterward.’’ 

Silence again — a throbbing, alive silence that 
seemed filled with beating hearts trembling 
before the truth — waiting to hear the worst, if 
worse there were. 

“But you did save her?” said Alecia, then, 
going over to her sister. “ Being our true, 
brave Bee, you could have done nothing else, 
darling.” 

Beatrice pushed aside Alecia’s gentle hands and 
stepped back from her, her flashing eyes holding 
a spirit of evil within them, though a streak of 
alternate red and white fell across her face as 
though evil and good were having equal battle 
in her heart. 

“ Don’t touch me, Alecia !” she cried, with 
swift impulse. “ You don’t realize how wicked 
I am ! I tell you I am just as much a murderer 
as though I had killed that woman ! Have I 
not told you that I would not have touched her 
had I known that she was John Winthrop’s 
mother — or sister — or wife? That is how I hate 
him !” 


i6o 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


Still Alecia did not recoil from her in horror 
as Beatrice seemed to expect ; only the smile died 
from her lips as she followed Beatrice, drawing 
her forcibly over to the low couch among the 
others and pressing her down tenderly among 
the cushions. 

“ You threaten like a tragedy-queen of the 
stage," she said, quietly. “ Now put away 
theatricals, Bee, and tell us the truth. You 
saved Mrs. Winthrop’s life ?* 

“ But I tell you, Alecia," protested Beatrice, 
restlessly — “ that I wouldn’t have done it had I 
known — " 

“ I don’t wish you to tell me that," said Alecia, 
steadily, and sternly, her violet eyes upon her 
sister’s flushed face. “You saved Mrs. Win- 
throp’s life, Bee Field ?” 

“Yes;" rather sullenly from Beatrice, angry 
because they would vindicate her in spite of her 
denouncing words. 

“ How did you do it, Bee, dear?" 

“She was crossing the street," said Beatrice, 
pulling her head away from Alecia’s light fin- 
gers that were removing her bonnet and veil, 
and making more fluffy the soft hair on her fore- 


BEATRICE RESCUING JOHN WINTHROP’S MOTHER. — See Page 153. 


























It Was Not She /” He Said. 161 


head, “ and she stumbled. It wasn’t anything 
really, only I wouldn’t have done it — I tell you, 
Alecia, I will finish it — had I known who she 
was.” 

“ Where is Annette ?” questioned Alecia. “ She 
was with you, Bee. She will tell us connectedly 
of the accident.” 

“ She has gone home,” replied Beatrice, frown- 
ing. “ I didn’t want her to come in. I knew 
that you would question her, and I will not have 
that ! This is my affair, Alecia !” 

“ What is she like, Bee ?” asked Cora, pres- 
ently. “ Is she real horrid — a sort of ogress, you 
know?” 

“ How could she fail to be horrid,” said 
Beatrice, coldly, “ being his mother, Cora ?” 

“ But what does she look like ?” persisted 
Cora. “ Is she tall and big with a hard voice and 
cold eyes and that, you know?” 

“ And did she thank you in a way that made 
you wish you hadn’t saved her,” queried Kath- 
ryn, saucily, “ as some people do, Bee ?” 

“ No, she didn’t,” said Beatrice, crossly. The 
truth would not be at all pleasant for her to tell 


162 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


to these girls — it was bad enough for her to have 
to acknowledge even to herself. 

“ Then, what did she say ?” asked Althea. 
“ Of course, she said something, Bee Field !” 

“ How can you expect me to remember what 
she said ?” retorted Beatrice, irritably, rising to 
leave the room, fearing lest she be too closely 
pressed. “ One seldom remembers details at 
such a time, Althea/’ 

“ But you would,” murmured Cora, disap- 
pointedly, yet not daring to further question this 
willful sister of hers. For, if the truth must be 
known, when Beatrice looked as she did at that 
moment, Cora was considerably afraid of her. 
“ You never forget, Bee !” 

‘•Yes,” said Beatrice, coldly, flashing her eyes 
upon Cora. “ In that you are right, Cora — I 
never do forget !” 

“ But, before you go,” joined in Marion, coolly, 
“ we shall be glad to learn what this man’s mother 
does look like, Beatrice. It should be a gratifi- 
cation to you to describe her if she is such a dis- 
agreeable person.” 

“ I did not say that she is disagreeable, 
Marion!” Beatrice paused in the door-way. 


“ It Was Not She !" He Said. 163 


“ Oh, indeed ! But you certainly insinuated it, 
Bee. You said that ‘she could not fail to be 
horrid, being his mother.' What else were we 
led to expect ?" 

“Well, of course, she is horrid!" declared 
Beatrice, desperately. “ But she doesn’t look so, 
Marion ! Her face is very sweet in expression — 
mild, you know — and her eyes are blue, like 
blue-bells — like Alecia’s — and her hair is the 
loveliest white. She’s a Quaker, too, and called 
me ‘ thee,' as though she loved the word. 
There ! Only — she is just as horrid, of course ! 
She cannot help being horrid, as I said !" 

The girl vanished as the last word was uttered, 
as though it were sorely bitter for her to be 
obliged to yield even this much to the mother 
of John Winthrop, and silence for a moment fell 
upon the room. 

“Well!" exclaimed Cora at last, in extreme 
astonishment. 

“ Well," repeated Kathryn and Althea, lost for 
any new expression in the extremity of their 
surprise. 

“ Beatrice has a way of making such mountains 
out of mole-hills !" said Marion, scornfully. 


164 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


“ We might have known what to believe. It 
would be well for her to break herself of that 
habit, among others, mamma.” 

“ It is because she lives and thinks and feels so 
intensely, I think, Marion,” said Frances, quietly. 
“She doesn’t dissect what comes to her, as a 
naturalist would do, but takes it and lives it and 
feels it herself as only such natures can. It isn’t 
a sin in Bee.” 

“ No,” added Alecia, very softly, very sweetly. 
“ She is doing this for me, Marion. Because — ” 

And then silence fell between them, eloquent 
with memory. 

At that same hour, John Winthrop, just 
returned to Paris to accompany his mother and 
ward back to America the following week, after 
their absence of two years, was sitting with them 
at luncheon, discussing the event of the morning. 
He was very pale, but it was the pallor of strong 
passion, and his eyes were flashing with a fire 
equal to that of Beatrice Field standing in the 
doorway of her sister’s room. 

Jessica Gray, his ward, faced him at the table. 
She was tall and graceful, willowy in figure and 
movement, with a subtle litheness about her that 


It Was Hat She!" He Said. 165 


suggested the nature of an indolent leopard. 
Her eyes showed this possibility also in their 
opal calmness, and the thin, rose-leaf lips were 
just now curled in scorn. 

She had lived aquiet life among the Berkshire 
Hills with her guardian’s mother, and yet this 
subtle fire and fierceness could waken within 
her brilliantly and her voice soften to a languor 
that was fascinating when she would. She often 
startled the gentle Quaker lady sitting near her 
son with her snowy hair smooth and soft and her 
gentle face pleading with them for kindly 
thought of the willful girl who had uttered such 
reckless words. 

“ You should not have ventured alone, 
mother,” said John Winthrop, gravely. His 
voice was always gentle addressed to this one 
woman. She was the only woman, perhaps, 
whom he fully loved and trusted. “ Jessica 
would have been glad to have accompanied you 
among the shops.” 

“Yes,” said Jessica, lazily. “I am always 
pleased to go with Mamma Winthrop, Jack.” 

“ But thee does not comprehend, John,” his 
mother said, softly. “Thee, nor Jessica. Only 


1 66 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


for a few things I went, and Jessica was reading. 
Had l not attempted crossing the street, I would 
have met with no adventure. But this young 
girl who saved me — ” 

“ A young girl, you say, mother ?” John Win- 
throp interrupted, earnestly, some strange 
thought deepening the pallor in his face. 

Mrs. Winthrop smiled indulgently upon her 
son. 

“ I think thee would call her a young girl, 
John,” she said, “ and very sweet in the face. 
But gray eyes she had that turned to black in 
her speaking. Slender and good to look upon, 
and sweetly spoken — until then.” 

“ And when she turned away she said — what 
was it she said, mother ?” 

“ Why should thee strive to remember her 
words, John, my dear? She was wicked in her 
hatred, or she could not have uttered them. 
Could she truly know thee she would not so 
have spoken.” 

“ But she said, mother?” 

“She said,” Mrs. Winthrop’s eyes were 
troubled, looking upon her son across the dainty 
table, “ to tell thee that had she known whom she 


“It Was Not She!” He Said. 167 


was saving she would not have lifted her hand for 
me. She said that thee would know. She mis- 
took thee, John. She could not have meant my 
son/' 

“ And her name, mother ?” 

“ Her name is Beatrice, John — a pleasant name 
— Beatrice Field.” 

“ Alecia Graham’s sister, she said?” 

“ Yes, John.” 

“ And from New York ?” 

“ From New York— yes, John. But why will 
thee think on these words of a willful heart — ” 

“She was slender and dark, with brown hair 
and gray eyes ?” 

“ Gray eyes, John, that turned to black in 
speaking, and brown hair that curled upon her 
forehead ; and slender — yes, John.” 

John Winthrop frowned heavily as he mechan- 
ically pushed away his plate, his eyes bent 
upon the snowy cloth, not daring to meet his 
mother’s loving eyes. 

“ Thank God !” he muttered. “ At least it was 


not she /” 


1 68 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A FACE IN THE CROWD. 

No man is the absolute lord of his life. — Meredith . 

Miss Jessica Gray, John Winthrop’s ward, was 
left an orphan with a fair fortune in money and 
beauty at fifteen. For three years she had been 
affectionately cared for in the pleasant Quaker 
homestead among the Berkshire Hills, growing 
in character, perhaps, too much after the man- 
ner of the wild-flowers there — so many flowers, 
so many weeds crowded together indiscrimi- 
nately. The lurking fire under the indifference 
of her manner might some day burn that which 
should waken it. 

In the quiet home among the New England 
Berkshires with gentle Mrs. Winthrop for com- 
panion, her fiercer nature slept. Occasionally 
she roused and brightened, surprising even her- 
self with her brilliance ; but these rare occasions 
were only when John Winthrop was at home. 
Still she did not pause to analyze this change in 
herself any more than she would have analyzed 


A Face in the Crowd. 


169 


a change more marked in any other. She was 
too indolent to question the causes of life. Life 
itself was good ; rather stupid at times, too animal 
like, but worth living. 

So that it was not until that morning of the 
adventure in front of the “ Belle Jardiniere ” 
that Jessica Grey was roused to be more than a 
passionate woman unawakened. She had never 
before been conscious of the heart that tinged 
her blood to the brilliant, intense degree of 
Beatrice Field. But this morning the smoulder- 
ing fire in her blood began to lift and glow, per- 
haps heralding — who knows — a craterous out- 
breaking like the destroying fires of .Etna or 
V esuvius. 

Those indolent opal eyes of hers from under 
their curled golden lashes watched furtively the 
strong face of her guardian in its pallor of pas- 
sion, across the pretty luncheon-table. Her ears, 
always strangely alert to catch his words, distin- 
guish some under note of biterness in his mut- 
tered speech, of some one who was not “she.” 
The thin rose-leaf lips parted, catching this in a 
charming yawn. 

“ I beg your pardon, Jack/’ she said, smoothly, 


170 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


the waking demon lurking in the darkening eyes, 
“ but sometimes I am more lonely among these 
hurrying crowds than under the trees at dear old 
‘ Cedarhurst.’ There one’s stupidity was not so 
markedly apparent as it is here.” 

Her guardian was kindly attentive at once. 
He fulfilled his duty to the letter to this girl, as 
in all else of his life. 

“ You do well to remind me, Jessica,” he said, 
putting aside his own thoughts for the time. 
“ You have been in Europe for two years now, 
and if you are still lonely, you should have 
told me sooner. We return to America next 
week, but until then, you shall have an oppor- 
tunity of making friends here. I have intro- 
ductory letters to many persons. I will call 
upon them to-day. No time like the present, 
you know, Jessica,” he added, smiling. His 
smile was always good to see. Now it quick- 
ened to a brighter glow that demon spark in 
Jessica’s eyes. “ And you must promise me, 
mother, never again to attempt shopping with- 
out companionship. Even your wonderful ‘ Bon 
Marche ’ or the ‘ Belle Jardiniere ’ or those shops 
of the ‘ Louvre ’ might prove snares for you. 1 


A Face in the Crowd. 


1 7i 

shall never feel secure about you, unless one of 
us is with you.” 

“ I promise thee,” said Mrs. Winthrop, smiling, 
always pleased at his evident affection and care. 
“ I will not again venture alone, John.” 

“ Some one anyway, to guard you,” added 
John, kindly. 

“ But, then,” the lurking devil had crept into 
Jessica’s slow, soft voice, though she toyed 
indolently with the spoon balanced upon her 
coffee-cup, her eyes from under their lashes on 
his face. “ But, then, there was the beautiful 
young lady, you know, Jack. Her speech was 
something like the speech of a heroine in a 
novel when th*e hero is in question. How inso- 
lent she must be to have uttered such words to 
our dear Mamma Winthrop. Or else — ”was 
there ever such another slow, even, exasperating 
voice before ? — “ how she must hate you, Jack ! I 
never believed you capable of hurting a woman.” 

There was fire under John Winthrop’s reserve, 
too, and this waking woman was frightened at 
her work when she saw the blaze in the dark- 
gray eyes under the heavy, meeting brows, and 
a vivid flush cross his face, leaving it still more 


172 John Winthrof s Defeat . 


pallid by contrast ; the stern lips set like steel 
lines under the shrouding mustache. He 
clenched his hand upon the table until it was 
like a dead hand closed rigidly forever upon 
some precious thing. How he commanded his 
voice into even speaking she could never know. 
His very self-control startled her more than 
open anger would have done. 

“Women judge for women,” he said, sternly, 
“ and men for men. You know too little of the 
one or the other to judge, Jessica. You will be 
happier if you learn from my mother’s quiet 
life rather than from novels. Because a woman 
is beautiful outwardly does not answer for her 
soul.” 

Still arguing away Alecia’s influence ! Always 
setting her against these strange happenings of 
life ! 

“ And there is really no true beauty without 
a white soul, Jessica,” said Mrs. Winthrop, 
gravely. “ Thee cannot judge John’s hurt of a 
woman. He would harm no one who is good.” 

“ But if one is wicked and desires to be good, 
and is still judged only because one is wicked, 
how can you hope for good results, Mamma 


A Face in the Crowd. 


A 73 

Winthrop? Maybe this girl, whoever she is, 
was infected by the old tragedy atmosphere 
lurking in Paris,” suggested Jessica, with a cold 
smile, “ and believed that she would do good by 
some ill vengeance, like Brutus. We women 
are strange creatures, Jack. Men never under- 
stand us.” 

“ Especially Miss Jessica Gray,” said John 
Winthrop, resolutely fighting down the fierce 
fire in his heart. “ 1 gain fresh knowledge of 
you every day, Jessica.” 

“ You are such a cynic that 1 wonder at your 
acknowledging even that, Jack,” she said, lightly, 
still indolently toying with her spoon. “ When- 
ever I hear of you in the world, it is that you 
scorn women generally.” 

“ No good, true woman,” said Mrs. Winthrop, 
with roused spirit. “ John would scorn no one, 
Jessica, who is worthy of respect. Thee should 
choose thy words more carefully, my dear.” 

“ And judge your guardian by his treatment 
of you, not of women generally,” added John, 
quietly, rising from the table. 

“ But” — they were all risen now, and Jessica, 
in her stately height, met levelly her guardian’s 


1 74 John Win t hr oft' s Defeat. 


eyes coolly and lazily — “ if we go into society 
here, Jack, are we not likely to meet this girl? 
It would not be specially pleasant, I should think 
— for you !” 

The flame blazed and flickered and died in 
John Winthrop’s eyes as he answered her, but 
no other betraying sign of emotion could she 
detect even with those alert eyes. 

“ As I told you, Jessica, you are not capable of 
judging for any one,” he said, coldly. “ There 
is no reason why I should shun Beatrice Field. 
I have done her no wrong — nor any one, know- 
ingly. I prefer that this subject should end here.” 

“ Oh, very well. As you say,” said Jessica, 
lazily, with a shrug of her shoulders and a slight 
curve of scorn on the rose-leaf lips. “ Only — I 
should rather like to meet this girl, Jack. She 
might sprinkle the spice into my life that I have 
so long lacked. It does not matter, J am sure, 
otherwise. The girl is nothing to me /” 

His lips shut tightly over this insinuation that 
the girl might be something to him , but Jessica’s 
face was so impassive and indolent that he 
turned away and left the room, uttering no word 
of acquiescence or denial. 


A Face in the Crowd. 


175 


“ But — we will see !” murmured Miss Jessica, 
lounging among the cushions of their carriage 
as they drove along the Champs Elys6es that 
afternoon, the pale blue cushions harmonizing 
with her own pale beauty, so that many eyes 
were turned upon her from passing carriages, 
sitting so carelessly opposite the sweet old 
Quaker woman with her placid face ; the strong 
face of the man beside her strangely out of place, 
as though two fires of ill were set beside some 
mighty calm. “We can wait, my dear guardian, 
if so we will learn ; and then — ” 

“ I did not think,” John was saying in quiet 
amusement, as he assisted his mother and ward 
to alight at their door, “ that my ward was such 
a charming woman. Of course, being a woman, 
you did not fail to note the admiration bestowed 
upon you this afternoon, Jessica. Allow me to 
congratulate you.” 

“ You are kind,” she said, languidly, “ to com- 
pliment me so prettily, Jack. I thank you.” 

But, down in her heart, she had learned that it 
was only this one man whom she cared to please. 

She could not know, however, though she 
shrewdly guessed, how the words of Beatrice 


176 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 

Field rankled in John Winthrop’s mind, cutting 
deep into the tissues of his heart, sorely wound- 
ing his soul. Yet even now he would not yield 
to the memory of Alecia’s face and violet eyes 
and uplifted head as she stood before him plead- 
ing for her husband. Even yet he argued that 
her pride was not true or she would not so defend 
her husband or expect grace from the man whom 
he would defraud. Even yet he said that Alecia, 
Harold Graham’s widow, was like all other 
women as to truth and purity of motive and 
honor. 

Still, was it not strange that with these 
unlovely traits arrayed against her, John Win- 
throp, her husband’s enemy, should so resolutely 
persist in mingling with this memory the quiet 
lips that covered heart-suffering, the level eyes 
that betrayed a beautiful soul, the radiant, van- 
ishing smile that transformed her face like sun- 
light? Still, always crowding down these gen- 
tler thoughts — for his heart and his will would 
struggle continually in his pride — came back the 
low, sweetly modulated voice, and the frozen 
brilliance of her smile, as she threw back to him 
her taunt in the doorway. Every word, clearly 


A Face in the Crowd 


1 77 


uttered, rang- in his memory as at the moment 
she spoke. Cruel words, and unjust, too, he 
always added, but — like a womam ! 

All these thoughts were come back to him, sit- 
ting in his room after the house was quiet. He 
could not sleep or rest with those even, violet 
eyes and that proud, beautiful face, alive with 
smiling, intruding upon his stern determina- 
tion to forget her. Every movement, every 
look, even every fold of her gown, returned to 
him more and more obstinately as he fought 
against them. He had never been so stirred by 
any woman ; he did not love her; he could not 
love her, for he had not seen her since her hus- 
band died, and his honor would never admit his 
loving another man’s wife ; he did not hate her, 
either, even though he tried, for he could not 
hate her. But why was it that the memory of 
her was so connected with his life, that no day 
passed without this struggle between his heart 
and his will, but always, decide as he would to 
forget her, she would rise, like Aphrodite, beau- 
tiful, complete, from the foam of yesterday’s 
determination, for his discomfiture ? 

“ Still, it wasn’t she /” he said, half angrily half 


1 78 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


tenderly, sitting at his window, one leg crossed 
over the other, his hands clasped back of his 
head, staring out into the brilliant street. “ She 
could not say it, and she would not, though her 
words were dagger-points that day. How 
proud she was, and how scornful, and yet so 
beautilul, without the loss of one atom of 
womanhood. But this was not she ! This was 
— ‘ Beatrice Field, Alecia Graham’s sister!’ ” 

“ Well, why should I so torment myself about 
her or her sisters ! Shall I admit that she has 
power to keep sleep from my eyes ? I am weary 
enough, heaven knows, and I have done her no 
wrong. She shall not haunt me like an unrest- 
ful ghost, for some murderous deed ! I will 
sleep, Alecia Graham, in spite of your eyes or 
smile ! You return home to-morrow, I under- 
stand, and so will not cross my path for many 
days — perhaps never !” 

And he resolutely went to bed and closed his 
eyes and slept by very force of will, crowding 
down his heart. 

But, strange contradiction of life, if so he 
trampled on his heart, calling it absurdity, why 
was it that he, among many others, haunted the 


A Face in the Cj'owd. 


179 


station at St. Lazare, when he knew that the one 
woman who held power to rouse his soul for his 
defeat was there to take the train to Dieppe, and 
so to Liverpool and — home ! 

Strange imbecility of the human heart, that, 
moth-like, haunts the candle’s flame ! Strange 
magnetism of the Juggernaut wheels of fate, 
drawing in and under the souls to be tried 
through the mills of life, and ground fine and 
sifted ! 

But did John Winthrop dream that through 
the gay crowds and among so many faces one 
slender figure followed him and one fair face 
never deviated from its purpose, or the bright 
eyes lose him from among the waiting pas- 
sengers ? 

“Oh, but I could learn to hate you, John 
Winthrop !” murmured the slender, watching 
woman, her eyes singling out his face always 
among the many. “ How I could hate you — 
because of her!” And her ears, alert, heard, 
scarcely heeding the words around her ; but a 
few out of these remaining in her memory, and 
her memory was good ! 

“Foolish Dick!” murmured a soft voice. A 


i8o 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


girl with brown eyes and hair and a charming 
face was standing with her escort a little apart 
from the chatting group upon the platform. 
“ To run away from his beloved art, and away 
down here from Rome just forme ! And it was 
only last week that you called me a wicked girl 
because I wouldn’t — ” 

“ Well?” There was a spice of persuasion in 
the man’s deep voice. “Because you wouldn’t 
what, Kathryn ? The completion of the sen- 
tence makes all the difference in the world !” 

“ Oh, yes,” said the girl, lightly, one hand, like 
a small bird, fluttering upon his arm. “ But 
then you know I simply could not marry you so 
off-hand, Dick, and stay in Rome away from 
home — even for you !” 

“ But you know whenever you do marry me, 
you’ll have to give up your old home anyway, 
Kathryn ; and when you know that I must 
remain here until the fall f should think — ” 

“ But you needn’t think, you know !” retorted 
the wicked voice of Kathryn Franklin. “ Besides, 
I haven’t married you yet, and maybe I never 
will, Dick Chester, so don’t be such a bear and 


A Face in the Crozvd. 


1 8 1 


threaten what you will do then — when I am 
going away, too !” 

“ It is your own fault that you are going away, 
please remember!” answered the man, half 
laughingly. “ But you know you are to write 
regularly, and decently long letters, too, Miss 
Kate, or who knows but I may decide to break 
all other ties save art, and swear allegiance to 
that alone ! Wouldn’t you always regret leaving 
me in this way, Kathryn Franklin?” 

“ Don’t be absurd, Dick !” protested Kathryn, 
calmly, save for a threat of tears in her voice as 
the hour of departure drew near. “ While you 
are in Rome — remember the adage — 1 Do as the 
Romans do ;’ but when you go home to 
America — ” 

“ Why, when I go home to America,” finished 
her lover, “ I will do as Americans do. The idea 
is excellent, and 1 will act upon it at once by 
kissing you right here before everybody, Miss 
Kathryn !” 

“ Don't be ridiculous, Dick !” murmured the 
pretty voice ; and the listening woman was 
about to turn away indifferently, when an excla- 
mation in the same voice arrested her attention. 


182 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


“ Hush! There — look! If that isn’t John Win- 
throp I’ll — why, I’ll stay with you in Rome, 
Dick Chester ! Over there — see ? Hateful old 
thing, isn’t he? How I detest him! What is he 
here for, I wonder? Jumbled by fate along with 
us going home? My goodness! I hope not! 
How awkward that would be, indeed !” 

“ Why would it be awkward ?” questioned her 
companion ; and the listener leaned a trifle nearer 
to catch the words. “ And who is John Win- 
throp, Kate Franklin?” 

“ Oh, come now, Dick, dear, don’t be jealous 
and fly into a passion in a breath !” said the girl, 
laughing, as she clasped her hands upon his arm 
and lifted her face nearer his. “Just because I 
happen to speak of a man, too ! You needn’t be 
jealous of him, I assure you. You wouldn’t be, 
either, if you knew. I told you once, but men 
are so forgetful. Beatrice !” She turned aside 
for a moment, touching the arm of a girl near 
her. “ Don’t tell Alecia — it would only annoy 
her — but look behind you, down toward the end 
of the platform. John Winthrop himself ! Just 
suppose they go on our steamer ? What will we 
do ?” 


A Face in the Crowd. 183 

Beatrice Field, with the old flash in her eyes 
and new color in her cheeks, obeyed Kathryn’s 
direction. A curve of scorn came upon her lips 
She drew herself up haughtily, answering her 
friend. 

“ There is no doubt of its being John Win- 
throp,” she said, coldly. “ One could not easily 
forget him, Kathryn — especially with our reason 
for remembrance. If he goes on our steamer — 
well, if he goes on our steamer — I may be 
wicked, but I cannot help it — I hope that the 
boat will sink in mid-ocean, even though we sink 
too! There! You look horrified, Mr. Chester, 
but I cannot help it. That man over there isn’t 
fit to live ! He killed Alecia’s husband just as 
truly as though he had used pistol or knife ! 
Can you blame me for hating him? Think of 
the sorrow she has endured because of him !” 

“ Who is he?” persisted Kathryn’s lover in an 
undertone, as Beatrice turned away to hide from 
them the passion of her face. 

And the woman listening bent nearer still, 
holding her breath lest she fail to hear, clutch- 
ing about her, shivering, the folds of her long, 
disguising mantle. The eyes behind the thick 


184 John Winthrof s Defeat. 


veil were glowing, and her lips were parted, the 
white teeth set close within. 

“Who is he?” repeated Kathryn, innocent of 
any wrong intention, in her strong words to her 
friend, lifting her indignant eyes to his. He had 
drawn her back to his side, and they were quite 
alone in the midst of the crowd. “ Have you 
forgotten so soon, Dick, dear? Before I marry 
you you must learn to be patriotic and defend 
my friends, you know. Who is he ? Why,” she 
turned her head as though she feared some 
breath of wind might spread the news to the ears 
of the man in the distance, her bright face peep- 
ing out beside her lover’s shoulder like a flower, 
“ he is the John Winthrop in the Palmer Earle 
case against Alecia’s husband. He just the same 
as murdered Jiim, you know !” 

“ Oh !” said her lover, his face darkening as 
though reflecting the girl’s indignation. “ Yes, 
I remember, Kate ! Deuce take him ! If I 
come across him I’ll remind him of that, too !” 

But who of them all noticed the woman who 
stood almost touching them, shivering in her 
heavy mantle as though she were very cold or 
stricken by some violent disease ? 


On the Zingara Age 


'am. 


185 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ON THE “ ZINGARA ” AGAIN. 

All returns to its place. Use and habit are powers 
Far stronger than passion in this world of ours. 

— Owen Meredith. 

The Babylon stage rumbled out of Fire 
Island Avenue upon the dock and paused for the 
passengers to alight. The Zingara lifted and 
fell upon the waves at the pier. The horse-car 
was hurrying down to meet the boat, and those 
passengers from the stage made haste to board 
the little steamer and choose their seats. 

Miss Bess Catherwood, yet boarding at the 
Surf Hotel, came across upon the steamer to 
meet the friends, who, returning from Europe 
some three weeks previously, had also engaged 
board at the Surf, because Alecia seemed desir- 
ous to be near the sea and among the old scenes 
of her happiness. Miss Catherwood was so impa- 
tient for the steamer to reach the dock that Lane 
Leland, beside her, of course, declared that it 


1 86 John Winthrof s Defeat. 


was all he could do to prevent her from jumping 
overboard and attempting to swim to land. But 
then Mr. Leland took occasion to tease Miss 
Catherwood, whenever opportunity offered, to 
repay her for her many cruelties to him, the 
most unkind of all these being her utter disre- 
gard of his happiness by refusing to marry him 
before the next November. 

“ There they are !” cried Miss Catherwood, 
excitedly, clasping her hands around her lover’s 
arm with the tiniest, most delicious pressure ? 
and then reaching forward to drag Alecia up on 
deck, her pretty face glowing with delight. 
“Oh, Mrs. Graham! You dear, dear, darling 
thing ! How well you look — but then you 
always are well! You don’t know how I have 
simply lived on your letters ! They were so 
delightful. I have them all — every one, and, oh, 
how jealous Lane is of you ! I know he is 
ashamed of it himself, but he would not acknowl- 
edge that if you dragged him about tied to the 
heels of wild horses, as those horrid men in the 
old times used to do ! But I don’t believe I 
could have lived without your letters, you 
dear !” 


On the Zingara Again. 


1 87 


“ I can scarcely credit that/ said Alecia, smil- 
ing brightly upon the small chatterbox with the 
warm heart, “ when you so easily forget our com- 
pact of calling me just simple Alecia. But ‘Just 
Little Me * could not fail to be sweet with her 
sweet heart. You don’t know how much you 
are to be congratulated, Mr. Leland, in having 
secured Bess to yourself.” 

“ Oh, but I don’t feel at all secure,” said Lane 
Leland, laughing. “No one ever could feel 
secure in relation to Bess, Mrs. Graham. But 
you are looking well, and it is good to have you 
back again. Of course you had a good time 
abroad ?” 

“ Of course they did !” retorted Bess, scorn- 
fully. “ Don’t ask such commonplace questions, 
Lane. Everybody goes abroad nowadays, and 
everybody has a good time, though they wouldn’t 
tell you so for worlds. It is such a horrid fashion 
to be too languid to enjoy anything. I simply 
connot be fashionable to that extent, and I’ll not 
try to. As though fashion shall tell me what I 
shall like and what I shall set aside ! It’s absurd . 
I am able to think for my own self, and approve 
of myself, and like what I want to. Nevertheless 


1 88 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 

you did have a lovely time, girls, and Paris was 
the same old dear, and the shops made your 
hearts ache — if you have any hearts left — and 
you have come back to the Surf to rest and get 
yourselves comfortably Americanized before 
next winter. It is so nice to have you — every 
one of you ! As for Cora, why, I shall get jeal- 
ous of her right away, because she has already 
begun to flirt with Lane, having no one better. 
You heartless coquette! Weren’t you wicked 
enough before you went to Paris, that you must 
come back crammed full of side glances and sly 
smiles and wicked, wicked dimples? As though 
anybody could help falling inextricably in love 
with you without them ! Of course, you lost 
your heart to one of those horrid foreign crea- 
tures ! It would be just like you to do it, only I 
won’t acknowledge you if you did. That’s run 
down to the ground so low that I am almost 
ashamed to accuse you of it, you poor dear !” 

She paused for breath, laughing with them at 
her own volubility, but so happy that, like a 
pleased child, she must vent her feelings in many 
words and innumerable little loving pats and 
dimpling smiles and flashes from under her 


On the Zingara Again, 


189 


curled black lashes. For Miss Bess Catherwood 
was as wicked as of old, with her pretty, bewitch- 
ing ways, that won her friends in spite of their 
professed scorn of her frivolity. 

“Then pray don’t accuse me of it, Bess,” said 
Cora, easily, a strange deepening of her color 
and drooping of the silken lashes, “ for I come 
back to you with just as whole a heart as I went 
away. I could not do anything else, you know, 
being patriotic, though I must confess that dear 
lovely, gay Paris almost won me over. We had 
two such winters there, Bess Catherwood !” 

“ And Corienne had so many admirers !” added 
Beatrice, laughing. “ It was quite wicked to 
tear her away. There was a regular mob down 
at the station to see us away — to see her away. 
Even the Parisian beauties had to acknowledge 
that an American can have eyes and lips and 
color. Oh, I heard lots of little stage-whispers 
and by-plays, you know ! I always do. It’s my 
vocation, I think. But Paris was delightful, of 
course.” 

“ And even the sea-sickness couldn’t alarm 
you !” added Cora, wickedly. 

Beatrice laughed. Her eyes were brilliantly 


190 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


black now, glancing along the water toward the 
island in the distance. Her thoughts traveled 
more swiftly than the steamer, knowing who 
would meet her there. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ even the ocean sickens Cora, 
though I was ill but one day. Lots of the pas- 
sengers were inclined to be homesick, I can tell 
you, and wish that they had never been tempted 
away from land. Poor things ! It was pathetic. 
Especially after Kathryn’s cruelty to Dick Ches- 
ter! He tried so patiently to win her over to 
remaining in Rome, you know. But even the 
sea-sickness wouldn’t daunt her. She would be 
married in America, she said, or nowhere ; so, of 
course poor Dick chose the least of these evils.” 

“ And Marion is to be married in October !” 
said Bess, reflectively, speaking rather shyly 
because she stood considerably in awe of 
Marion’s calm, immovable nature and ironical 
speech. “ And Althea came home with her 
heart, too ; and Bee and Frances. I am so glad 
to know that not one of you sold your hearts for 
a coronet or a jewel in the hair. I should so have 
despised you, though I wouldn’t, maybe, have 
told you so. Lane says I am always telling peo- 


On the Zingara Again . 19 1 


pie mean things, but I only say the truth, and if 
that’s mean, /don’t make it so.” 

Alecia smiled kindly upon the pretty, brightly 
colored face beside her, laying her hand over the 
small hand on the railing. 

Alecia was exquisitely beautiful in her dove- 
gray dress and delicate bonnet of lace. Every- 
thing about her seemed infused with her person- 
ality and became parts of herself. Her friends 
sometimes said that things turned to perfect 
womanliness from mere contact with her. But 
Alecia always smiled at this lavish praise from 
her friends. Her sunny hair under the dainty 
bonnet was touched to spun gold as the sunlight 
fell upon it from across the water, but her eyes 
were still of their old even violet blue. The 
smile upon her face was almost the old smile, for 
an instant dazzling her friends. Even strangers 
upon the boat watched her with fascination. 

“ And little Bess is to be married in Novem- 
ber,” said Alecia, softly. “ I was not far amiss 
when I read the sweet heart under the naughty 
eyes that old summer. Three years ago, little 
Bess — think of it ! That is a long time to keep 
your lover waiting.” 


192 John Win t hr of s Defeat. 


The lovely color mounted even to the girl’s 
dark hair, and touched the soft lace at her throat. 
The wide, black eyes were shy, now lifted to her 
friend. They spoke each to the other, and no 
one else heard. 

“ But I wanted to be very, very sure,” said 
the pretty child-woman shyly, “ that I really did 
care only for him, Alecia, and he for me ; 
because,” who could resist those sweet, pleading 
eyes or the trembling red mouth or that hint of 
a dimple about the lips, “ everybody said I was 
too thoughtless, you know, to care for any one 
for long, and I wouldn’t for anything marry 
Lane if I wouldn’t love him always, for it would 
make me so unhappy, thinking that I may have 
kept him from loving some one else. And then, 
too,” the light in Alecia’s eyes was very tender 
now, “ 1 couldn’t bear to think of being married 
without you to tell me you were glad, you dear, 
sweet thing ! And so I just told Lane how I 
felt, and when I came to you, he said that he 
was willing to wait for that as well as I. So you 
see we do truly love you, Mrs. Graham. I could 
not help loving you, you know,” a flutter along 
the tender words, a flicker of intense light in the 


IT IS YOUR OWN FAULT THAT YOU ARE GOING AWAY, PLEASE REMEMBER.”- — See Page 181 . 















193 


On the Zingara Again. 


sweet, wide lifted eyes, “ after your kind words 
to just little me the day you went away, when 
you ought not to even have thought of me in 
your own terrible trouble. But you don’t know 
how I love you for it, dear Mrs. Graham — you 
don't know!" 

“If I helped you at all, Bess, dear,” said 
Alecia, gently, the light in her eyes that her 
friends cared to see, “ it makes me happy to 
know it. The warm heart under your naughty 
words made me fear a heartache later unless it 
were allowed to come to the sunlight. Sunshine 
as well as tears, dear. And you are sure now 
that you do love Lane, and will not keep him 
from loving some one else, by and by ?” 

The wide, black eyes searching the tender 
face found only love in the questioning, and gave 
frank answer, as Bess Catherwood must always 
give Alecia Graham. 

“ I am so sure,” she said, simply and sweetly, 
a new note in the pretty voice, as there was a 
new touch upon her face, “that I would go right 
on loving him always, Mrs. Graham, though I 
should never see him again in all the world !” 

A flash as of pain struck across Alecia’s face, 


i 9 4 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


but it was gone so swiftly that the tender eyes 
uplifted dared not think that it had been there 
as silence fell between them. 

And Lane Leland, laughing and chatting with 
the rest of the party — for the old summer party 
was there, with the addition of the Fields — saw 
this vanishing flash on the beautiful woman’s face, 
and for an instant the laughter died upon his lips 
at the intensity of its pain. 

‘Are all our old friends at the Surf, Mr. 
Leland?” Althea was questioning, with great 
assumed indifference. She knew that George 
Priestly was there, but why should she betray 
her heart? 

“ All of the old party,” Lane answered, smiling, 
a gleam of laughter deepening in his eyes, 
“ excepting Miss Armitage. Miss Armitage that 
was, 1 mean, of course, for she is married, you 
know. She was married the day that Graham 
died. Strange, wasn’t it? Oh, yes; and the 
Grants are not out, either ! Little Miss Grant is 
another that’s gone off into matrimony ! She 
married Palmer Earle’s nephew, Harry Earle. 
A good, solid fellow,, too ! Got plenty of ‘ spot 
cash ’ besides, which made him irresistible. Miss 


On the Zingara A gam. 195 


Anita was a nice little thing, though. They are 
happy the story says — regular home bodies, you 
know, and entertain only their friends. But Miss 
Bradley and her sister are there, of course. Evi- 
dently, Miss Clara decided to brave the thunder 
rather than Uncle Hallett’s wrath ! We’ve had 
some pretty tough showers, too, by the way, but 
nothing as bad as that one three years ago. That 
was horrible, wasn’t it? And you ought to hear 
them talk about Graham ! They say that he 
acted the perfect hero down on the shore.” 

“ That was like Harold,” said Frances, softly. 
“ He could not have helped being brave.” 

“You know I wasn’t with them,” added Lane, 
a slight smile chasing the shadow from his face* 
remembering wicked Miss Catherwood’s cutting 
speech upon the stairs. “ But you ought to hear 
the fellows tell about it. It’s as good as a play. 
Palmer Earle came mighty near going under, 
too, that time. He can thank his lucky star for 
getting off with a whole skin. I wouldn’t care 
to run so near the Black River.” 

“ Did Harold save him, too ?” asked Beatrice, 
bitterly. “ It would have been his way to do 


196 John WinthroJ s Defeat. 


even that. I haven’t forgiven that hateful man 
yet, Mr. Leland.” 

“ I think we all feel rather squeamish toward 
him, Miss Beatrice,” said Lane, gravely. “ Of 
course, he followed a perfectly justifiable code 
of action, but we all expected him to yield a lit- 
tle for the sake of the man with whom he was 
dealing. He was the only one so hard. But he 
brags of having no soft spot in his heart, and per- 
haps that is the cause.” 

“ And Harold didn't save him, then ?” persisted 
Beatrice, with strange pertinacity. 

“ I have always half believed that he did. It 
would be so like him !” 

“ I have thought that he saved him, too,” 
Leland said, slowly, “ Miss Beatrice, but no one 
will say f It was like Harold ! But if he did, 
Palmer Earle doesn’t know it, for I asked him 
point-blank one day, and he said it was one of the 
coast-guard ! But, to return to the guests at the 
Surf Hotel. Harry Dillingham’s out, of course, 
because Gregory Bensonhurst is there. You 
can pretty nearly swear to the one if you see the 
other. Inseparable ! Like chums at college, but 
uni ike the fashionable world ! Bensonhurst was 


On the Zingara Again . 


197 


coming across with us to-day, but changed his 
mind. He's a good fellow now, I tell you — solid 
as a brick and true as steel !” Remarkable that 
his eyes should so accidentally meet Beatrice’s 
eyes, and that the sweet color was warm in her 
face. “ Charlie Brown’s down, too. He and 
Miss Clara are engaged, I believe rumor goes ; 
and Maurice Henderson is pretty well settled 
with Ninette ! Oh, there is any amount of news 
and gossip down our way ! Europe is not the 
only place for sensations !” 

“ Nevertheless we had our sensation as well as 
you !” said Kathryn Franklin, laughing easily. 
“ Let me see ! There was the big captain of the 
guards, who fell desperately in love with Marion 
— think of it ! — crossing the channel ! And there 
was the woman on the Etruria going over who 
kept her state-room almost the entire passage 
because her beloved pug died ! That was quite 
heart-rending, I assure you, Mr. Leland ! And 
then there were ever so many little events that 
I cannot remember. But the greatest of all I 
have saved till the last. May 1 tell Mr. Leland 
of that occurrence, Bee ?” 

“ What occurrence, Kathryn ?” asked Beatrice, 


1 98 John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 


indifferently. Her thoughts were wandering 
and she had not heeded the conversation around 
her. She blushed, turning to answer Kathryn, 
as though her thoughts were deeper than mere 
surface thought. 

“ At * Belle Jardini6re/ ” said Kathryn, hesitat- 
ingly. “You remember, Beatrice, dear?” 

“Oh !” said Beatrice, coldly. The blush died. 
She was proud and still. “ If you wish, Kathryn. 
It is nothing to me.” 

“ Well, then,” Kathryn leaned forward that no 
one outside of their circle should overhear. 
“Bee saved the life of John Winthrop’s mother 
in Paris, Mr. Leland. What have you to say to 
that for coals of fire heaped upon his head ?” 

“ Is it possible !” exclaimed Lane Leland, start- 
ing and changing color. “ I forgot to say that 
he is at the Surf this season — he and his mother 
and a Miss Gray.” 

“ Who is at the Surf, did you say, Mr. Leland ?” 
queried Alecia, smiling as she turned to them, 
never dreaming of his answer, never dreaming 
how the great wheels of fate were grinding down 
exceedingly fine now. “ Of course, I shall be 


i 9 9 


On the Zingara Again . 


glad to meet all the old friends, but who .is this 
special one ?” 

And Lane Leland answered in a scarcely 
audible tone : 

“John Winthrop, Mrs. Graham.” 

Dead silence fell upon the group on the deck 
of the Zingara after Lane Leland’s low-toned 
reply to Alecia’s question. Perhaps Alecia her- 
self, of them all, was most unmoved in outward 
appearances. She was standing at the railing, 
for the boat was nearing the pier, with Miss 
Catherwood beside her, looking across the water 
to the group awaiting the steamer's arrival. 
With utter unconsciousness of the drift of their 
conversation she had questioned Lane Leland. 
His reply sent the blood in a tide to her face, 
that, receding, left her colorless. That was all. 
Her hand was just as steady as it lay on the 
railing ; her eyes as level looking across the 
water. 


200 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


CHAPTER XV. 

FACE TO FACE. 

Still, as once with the actors in Greece, 'tis the case 
Each must speak to the crown with a mask on his face. 

— Owen Meredith. 

Kathryn was nervously biting her lip. Althea 
started, changed color, looked up frightened, 
and sank back in her seat confused, seeing Alecia’s 
perfect calm. Marion did not even turn her 
head. Frances lifted her eyes to Alecia’s face, 
paled and flushed, but made no outward demon- 
stration. Little Miss Catherwood’s soft fingers 
were touching lightly and caressingly that slim, 
steady hand upon the railing. Beatrice alone 
showed visible anger. 

“ As I told you that day in Paris, girls,” she 
said, her voice low and perfectly even, though it 
was steelily cold, “ there is some fatality in this 
John Winthrop. Harold would not have died 
had it not been for him ; and why should we for- 
get or forgive ? I do not see how you can be so 


Face to Face. 


201 


calm, Alecia, if you remember how he made you 
suffer.” 

“ Forgive,” said Alecia, very softly, very 
steadily, “ as you would be forgiven, Bee, dear. 
I think that Mr. Winthrop is an honorable man, 
although just to an over-nicety. But he is not a 
villain. You cannot call him that, even hating 
him as you do. That he is at the island shall not 
disturb my happiness. There is surely room for 
him and me in the world. Mr. Bensonhurst is 
on the pier, I see. And Ninette and Clara — all 
the old friends, as though one had but just sailed 
across the bay for an hour instead of for three 
long years.” 

Beatrice for one instant felt a deep sense of 
shame for her own unforgiving spirit, when the 
woman most wounded could speak gently of him 
who gave the wound. But how could she help 
her feeling? She hated the man so thoroughly. 
Then, too, there was Gregory Bensonhurst upon 
the pier. He was her friend — Alecia’s friend ; 
he had censured John Winthrop as strongly as 
she, and he was a man. She would ask him if 
she were wicked to harbor this harsh judgment 
of the man, and if he said she was, should she 


202 


John Winthrop's Defeat . 


not try to overcome it, because he was Alecia’s 
friend and Harold’s friend — and hers ? 

His eyes were keen, in spite of their usual 
languor, as he sought this bright face among the 
group on the little Zingara ; and the smile that 
wakened the brown depths of his eyes, lighting 
the quiet face, although it did not stir the pleas- 
ant mouth, gave the girl as warm a welcome as 
words could have done. She saw it, and the 
color deepened in her face, but her eyes reso- 
lutely turned away, as though he were the last 
among their friends for whom she cared. The 
smile went down to his lips, seeing this ; and 
quite calmly, as a matter of course, he stepped 
upon the steamer’s deck as she drew alongside 
the pier, and took the girl’s two hands in his, his 
eyes upon hers, commanding her gaze, his voice 
waking the voice of her heart. 

“ I have been very patient,” he said, steadily. 
“ I would not go to you even once during your 
weeks at home. I wished to have you here in 
this quiet life first after your years away. It has 
seemed a long, long time to me, Beatrice. But 
how well you are looking !” 

That was all. He did not even wait for her 


Face to Face . 


203 


reply, as though he knew her heart’s throbbing 
stifled utterance, or as though her silence were 
sweetest. He turned to the others about her, 
greeting them in his old, easy, lazily good- 
humored fashion, laughing, bandying light 
words of pleasant gossip with the girls and with 
Lane Leland ; attentive to see that Mrs. Field 
was assisted upon the pier, questioning if she 
were fatigued ; offering her his arm to the hotel, 
as though Beatrice in her bright beauty were 
no more to him than any pretty woman ! 

Ninette and Clara, of course, crowded about 
them ; Harry Dillingham and Charlie Brown 
and George Priestly — all the old friends. Light 
words and laughter, pretty assurances of affec- 
tion and a shower of questions as to the latest 
fashion in Paris for bonnets and gossip. 

“ You would endure the worst of showers 
that ever fell over the island to possess the bon- 
net with which I fell in love, Clara !” said 
Alecia, smiling, as Miss Clara snuggled her hand 
under her friend’s arm and turned with her up 
the pier, Ninette upon her left and the others of 
the group scattered about them. “ The very 
dearest bit of lace and feathers that even the 


204 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


queen of Paris fashions could devise ! Wait 
until you see it, my dear !” 

“ Then you brought it with you, Mrs. Gra- 
ham ?” 

“Of course I brought it with me,” answered 
Alecia, not adding that it was intended for this 
little lover of bonnets. “ I would not dare 
waken your curiosity without being able to 
satisfy it, Miss Clara ! I wish you had been with 
us last winter. We had a most delightful time. 
We met several old friends in Paris, too, and 
made many new ones. Paris is the conservatory 
of friendships, you know.” 

“ Exotic, many of them, though,” said Marion, 
quietly. “ Forced, more than our American 
friendships, Miss Clara. Cultivated for us 
rather than by us, and showing to best advan- 
tage by gaslight. I grew somewhat weary of 
Paris toward the last.” 

“ But that is only Marion’s way !” cried Cora, 
horrified, her black eyes alife turned upon 
Harry Dillingham, who had discovered that 
Miss Cora Field’s eyes were more worthy of 
admiration than any other woman’s. “ It’s 
fashionable to grow fatigued with everything, 


Face to Face. 


205 


you know, and Marion must profess it too ; but 
it isn’t true . She simply could not be tired of 
Paris — no one could unless he were blind and 
deaf. Even then I believe that the lights and 
music and gayety would creep in through the 
other senses. You can’t be dull in Paris. I 
love it !” 

Harry Dillingham laughed, amused. This 
vivacious woman was deliciously refreshing 
after the rather quiet days upon the sands. Her 
brilliant eyes were brighter than the sparkles of 
the water under the moonlight, he thought, and 
better worth the watching. Her voice was light 
and sweet with sunshine in it. 

The others laughed also, knowing Miss Cora’s 
passion for gayety and admiration. 

“ The life of Paris suits you, Miss,” Dillingham 
said, interestedly. “ You will find the Island 
pretty dull after such life. I fear we shall not 
be able to detain you with us long with so little 
to interest you.” 

“ But one doesn’t want too much life, Mr. 
Dillingham!” she replied, brightly. “One must 
run away and hide for a time or one would grow 
deadly wearying.” 


2 o 6 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


They paused in a group on the piazza, as the 
proprietor came out to welcome them, and then 
they sought their rooms, or wandered out upon 
the sands until the dinner hour. 

Alecia, after arranging her hair and making a 
few other necessary alterations in her toilet, 
joined Miss Catherwood and Leland for a prom- 
enade for one glimpse of the surf and ocean 
before the sunset faded. 

The lights were tender out upon the water 
and the sails against the far sky gleamed from 
the western radiance. Near in along the sands 
the surf seethed like crystallized lace fragments 
tracing mysterious figures to be swept away by 
breakers lifting behind them. The sands were 
lonely, save for one or two groups watching the 
waning lights, and these three promenaders 
laughing at their echoes underfoot wakened by 
the plank walk, chatting as they would of grave 
things or gay that crowded the past two years. 

“We will take the full length of the walk this 
time, and then we really must go in to dinner,’’ 
said Bess, happily, one hand upon her lover’s 
arm, the other clasping Alecia’s fingers, like 
three people let loose from care, happy in the 


Face to Face . 


207 


soft lights and peace over the ocean world. “ I 
hear the startling jingle of the bell that declares 
it will ring immediately. We will get a dread- 
ful scolding if we are late, because 1 am always 
late! They’re never naughty tome, though,” 
added this small sage. 

“ As we are always telling you, no one could 
help being kind to you, dear,” said Alecia. Her 
heart was very kindly disposed toward this little 
woman in her new dignity. “ And this air and 
scene would reconcile me to a lack of dinner for 
to-night. After all your Tuscany and Normandy 
and Spanish coast and anywhere — give me dear 
old America !” 

They were laughing lightly, treading down 
the echoes along the worn planks, a touch of the 
ocean breeze in their faces and voices, and, as 
they came out into the pavilion in the broader 
lights, Bess pressed her soft fingers warningly 
down upon her lover’s arm, seeing and recog- 
nizing the group of three upon one of the seats 
just beyond them. 

But there was no need for the pallor to strike 
her sweet face or the startled eyes to turn for 
guidance upon Lane Leland, for calmly and 


208 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


proudly Alecia stood beside them, the lights in 
her hair and face, no shadow in the level, lifted 
eyes, no trembling on the curved red lips as she 
met full in her own the sudden light of surprise 
roused in the gray eyes of John Winthrop, rising 
as he recognized her ; some strange quiver in his 
face, yet standing erect and still waiting her 
words, one hand upon the back of the bench, 
where his mother sat, the other involuntarily 
clenched at his side, unconscious that the steely 
eyes of Jessica Gray were upon him. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TRUTH AT LAST. 

Do we stand in our own light wherever we go. 

And fight our own shadows forever ? 

* * * * * * * 

From ruins like these rise the fanes that shall last, 

And to build up the future heaven shatters the past. 

— Owen Meredith. 

“Mr. Winthrop, I believe? You, too — even 
you — are attracted by this beauty. Artists and 
poets — and women — are most easily moved by 
such scenes as this ; one would not ascribe such 


The Truth at Last . 


209 


a soft side to Mr. Winthrop,” said Mrs. Gra- 
ham. 

He felt the hot, unruly blood surge to his face 
and recede, leaving him death-like in pallor ; his 
eyes, now black with the intensity of emotion, 
burned into hers ; his head was lifted as proudly 
as was hers in the soft lilac twilight. She faced 
the ocean with the lights upon it touching her 
eyes and hair ; he was more in shadow, and stood 
against the scene a commanding, haughty man, 
wounded to the depths of his soul by her scorn. 

Alecia had endeavored to crush utterly from 
her memory that scene in Palmer Earle’s office 
where this man rose so darkly in her life, but as 
he stood before her in the pavilion on the sands, 
where she had found so much quiet happiness 
during that old summer, the bitterness and harsh- 
ness in her heart crowded down her womanly 
charity, and she could have wounded him more 
deeply than she did and felt no pity. 

Miss Catherwood’s light hand was trembling 
upon her lover’s arm, terrified lest there be some 
bitter scene between these two ; and Lane Leland 
drew himself up with equal dignity with John 
Winthrop, ready to defend his fiancee s friend 


210 


John Winthrofs Defeat. 


should there be need. Jessica Gray’s hands 
were clasped in her lap and her eyes were upon 
these two, scarcely noting the others, although 
she showed no special interest save that strange 
flicker in her eyes, like newly wakened fire. 
Mrs. Winthrop had turned her sweet, calm face 
trustingly to her son, the tender sea lights upon 
her snowy hair, a wonderful peace in her soft 
blue eyes, waiting for him to speak and prove 
this woman’s injustice. 

“ Mrs. Graham is kind,” he said, his voice as 
steady and cold as Alecia’s, for his will mastered 
any heart pain, “ to credit me with the softness 
of a poet — or a woman. But she over-praises 
me ! I am here solely on account of my mother 
and Miss Gray.” 

“ And the less one possesses of this softness 
belonging to poets — and women — the surer is 
one given high seat in the counsel chambers. Is 
it not so, Mr. Winthrop ?” 

The lines about his mouth were stern, and 
dagger-points were in his eyes. 

“ The more unbiased judgment there is the 
more certain will the wheels of the world run 
evenly — yes, Mrs. Graham,” he said. 


The Truth at Last. 


2 1 1 


“And the wheels of a Juggernaut crush out 
our hearts,” added Mrs. Graham, with a scorn- 
ful, sweet laugh. “ Does Mr. Winthrop con- 
sider it always wisest to think only of the world 
and not of individuals?” 

“ The world includes individuals,” he said, 
coldly. “ Perhaps Mrs. Graham forgets that.” 

“ Indeed, no,” she answered, with a slight 
shrug of her graceful shoulders and that flashing 
smile upon her face. “ But ruling the world 
with a set of laws that must be made to fit each 
man, even though the man be crushed to go into 
his place, is too mechanical a piece of machinery 
for a world where there are throbbing hearts 
and infinitely strung souls, Mr. Winthrop. Too 
many hearts are stifled and trampled and broken 
in your steel rules, that hold no place for a poet 
or — a woman !” 

“ Pardon me. There are men who crush their 
own hearts in upholding their standard of honor, 
Mrs. Graham. There are soldiers, accounted 
among the bravest, who carry the army colors 
up to the fort* in face of death. Is it impossible 
for men to do the same in every-day business 
life? But I am remiss. Allow me to make my 


212 


J ohn Winthrop' s Defeat . 


mother known to you, Mrs. Graham, and my 
ward, Miss Gray. I understand that you have 
been abroad and just returned.” 

Alecia acknowledged gracefully the introduc- 
tion, attracted, in spite of her scorn of the man, 
toward the sweet, peaceful woman at his side, in 
her quiet gown and snowy hair. 

“ We have been abroad ; yes,” she said, calmly. 
** When one would be free of old memories, Mr. 
Winthrop. one goes abroad that the ocean may 
wash between. Strange, with this faith in 
the efficacy of change, that the old memories 
remain. At least I find it so.” 

“ Still, there are people,” said John Winthrop, 
coldly, drawing with contradictory tenderness 
the soft white shawl about his mother’s shoul- 
ders as she arose to return to the hotel, as the bell 
was clanging. “There are people, Mrs. Graham, 
who take peculiar pleasure in brooding over 
imaginary wrongs until they change from form- 
less shadows to substance. It is much wiser to 
stand and fight back the shadows into sunshine, 
is it not?” 

“ Nevertheless,” that old brilliant lightening 
smile upon her face, “ sometimes the brightest 


The Truth at Last. 


213 


sunshine makes deepest shadows, Mr. Winthrop. 
That is a natural phenomenon, I think. Nature 
and life are much the same, looked at from a 
philosopher’s standpoint. Do you not agree 
with me, Mrs. Winthrop?” 

“ But thee must know,” said Mrs. Winthrop, 
very gently, drawn toward this beautiful woman 
in spite of the memory of the fierce words 
spoken by Beatrice Field that day in Paris, “ that 
this natural phenomenon proves the wisdom, 
Mrs. Graham, that contrasted light and shadow 
make life’s artist pictures. And thee must also 
know that light is the better coming out of 
shadow.” 

“ Perhaps, though,” said Jessica Gra)% indo- 
lently, “ Mrs. Graham would have no shadows, 
only sunlight, Mamma Winthrop. That is what 
Jack’s speech implies as his wish. For my part, 
I say, let us take whatever comes — especially 
dinner.” 

Miss Catherwood laughed merrily. The scene 
she had feared was at last over. There had been 
sharp words, as, of course, there must be, but 
nothing so very terrible, and her light heart 
promised that even this hardness between the 


2 14 John Winthrop's Defeat. 


two would pass with all hard things of life, as 
time should soften the hurt. 

The halls of tragedy are so often built on the 
pillars of farce. And the wheels in those grind- 
ing mills are fashioned from such spider films of 
fineness. And they walked up the promenade — 
that strange group — as though nothing had hap- 
pened to mar the sunshine in any of their lives, 
uttering careless words in the thousand and one 
items of small-talk, no mighty earthquake, no 
fearful fire from heaven to change the face of 
nature, because two souls were struggling 
between pride and love. 

Beatrice was waiting for her sister. She was 
standing on the piazza talking with Gregory 
Bensonhurst, and there was the old stern expres- 
sion upon her face, as when first Alecia made 
known to her the failure of her pleading with 
Palmer Earle’s counsel. A strangely hard look 
to be upon the face of a girl, scorn and pride and 
indignation burning within. She was not smiling 
as Beatrice usually did smile for the man beside 
her. Her eyes were lifted to his, and she was 
speaking very slowly and with evident effort, as 


The Truth at Last. 215 

though the topic of their conversation were some 
cruel thing, hard to comprehend. 

She recognized instantly her sister’s compan- 
ions, but gave no sign, standing perfectly still 
and proud and calm, with her immovable face 
turned to Gregory Bensonhurst, and her slender 
figure erect and graceful. 

“ Beatrice,” said Alecia, pausing beside her, 
while the others passed on to the dining-room, 
“ are you ready, dear ?” 

“ Yes,” said Beatrice, quietly. “ But let me 
warn you, Alecia, that you will meet in there the 
man whom I hope you hate as earnestly as I. 
Palmer Earle came over in the Banjo with Mr. 
Priestly this afternoon. He came to see his 
beloved counsel, on some business, of course, and 
took the opportunity of an outing. I sincerely 
regret that the Banjo , with her usual intelligence, 
did not sink, knowing that he was sailing in her.” 

“ Well,” said Alecia, indifferently, “ I shall not 
allow Mr. Earle or his counsel to affect my happi- 
ness, Bee, nor my appetite. Let us go in.” 

“ But there is more that I have learned,” said 
Beatrice, intensely, her eyes upon her sister’s 
calm face. “ I think that you know it already, 


2l6 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


Alecia. Mr. Bensonhurst told me. They shall 
learn it too, presently.” 

“ What do you mean, Bee ?” There was an 
earnest gravity in Alecia’s voice that betrayed 
her fear. 

“ Never mind,” said Beatrice, slowly and very 
distinctly. “ I shall have the pleasure of speaking 
the truth for once, Mrs. Graham, as I have so long 
hoped. Did I not tell you if ever the time came, 
I would tell John Winthrop the truth? You 
shall not prevent me in this, Alecia. Mr. Ben- 
sonhurst is a man as well as this grand mogul 
counsel, and he does not tell me I am unjust !” 

“ I think,” Gregory Bensonhurst said, gravely, 
“ that it may do John Winthrop good to hear the 
truth from Miss Beatrice’s point of view, Mrs. 
Graham. He is a thoroughly honorable man, but 
he overstrains his code of justice sometimes, 
fearing that his heart shall make him weak. I 
have learned to know him pretty well during 
these past two years, and that is the only flaw 
that I discover in him. He is a very noble man 
save for that.” 

“ A man’s nobility is proved in small things as 
in great, Mr. Bensonhurst !” cried Beatrice, 


The Truth at Last. 


217 


swiftly, with waking anger in her great dark 
eyes and around her quivering mouth. “ There 
can be no true nobility where there is no heart!” 

“ Then you shall prove him, Bee,” said Alecia, 
quietly, slipping one hand softly within her 
sister’s arm. “ They will believe that we fear to 
face them unless we go in at once.” 

“ They shall shortly learn that I do not,” said 
Beatrice, as she turned with her sister and friend 
and entered the room. 

And that evening, with her usual impetuosity, 
Beatrice Field, alert for an opportunity to face 
Palmer Earle and his counsel with her truth, 
came upon them in apparent unconsciousness as 
they loitered on the pier with their cigars, before 
joining the ladies on the piazza. 

Beatrice had been promenading with Gregory 
Bensonhurst, but giving him no chance of 
uttering the words so near his heart, too much 
excited by the truth made known to her that 
evening ; and as she saw that the two men were 
about returning to the hotel, she slipped her 
hand from her companion’s arm and walked 
deliberately down the plank to meet them. 

No one observed them save young Benson- 


. 218 John Winthrop s Defeat . 


hurst, for most of the guests were on the piazza 
facing the pavilion or on the sands or along the 
promenade. This one girl came upon them 
almost a stranger, but utterly disregard ful of the 
fact in her desire for justification of Graham’s 
memory. 

Both lifted their hats as she paused before 
them. 

“ Mr. Earle,” she said, in her low, steady, dis- 
tinct voice, her eyes black with her angry spirit, 
“ and you, also, Mr. Winthrop, I have waited 
very patiently for this moment. I may be to 
you scarcely upon speaking acquaintance, but 
the cause justifies the means. That Mr. Win- 
throp will be able to corroborate, I think. I 
have not much to say to you, and you will par- 
don me if I detain you for a moment. 

“ Three years ago,” she said, her eyes meeting 
levelly now the cold eyes of Palmer Earle, now 
the answering flashing eyes of his counsel, “ my 
sister, Mrs. Graham, went to you to plead for 
leniency toward her husband. You, Mr. Earle, 
with your concience* touched by her words, sug- 
gested that some concession be made. But your 
counsel,” how her eyes scorned the tall, com- 


The Truth at Last . 


219 


manding man, with his haughty face never 
flinching from her gaze, “ deemed it but a foolish 
prompting of heart weakness ! He would press 
to the utmost the man touched by misfortune, 
never by dishonor!” 

Very low and steady her voice, but how it cut 
the soft airs floating in from the quiet sea ! With 
one slim hand she seemed to push aside any 
detaining thought, and continued her denuncia- 
tion. 

“ Mr. Winthrop judged — so he said — from his 
standpoint of justice and honor ! Wait ! Was it 
honorable — was it manlike — I do not ask if it 
were kind, for the heart is to have nothing to do 
with this — but was it simplest justice that the 
man holding the claim of money against this 
other man should turn a deaf ear to the yielding 
of even an inch in his arrogance and pride ? 
Does the man who was so immovable that day — 
I speak to you, Mr. Earle ! — never think of how 
he wanted in justice to the man who placed his 
own life in the balance to save yours ? Oh, you 
start, do you, and wonder how I, a woman, can 
set myself in judgment against you ! I have 
waited very patiently for this moment to come, 


220 


John W inthrofs Defeat. 


when I might face you both with the truth of 
your action that day ! The world justified your 
course, and claimed that you demanded but 
your rights ! What would that same world say 
should it discover, as I have discovered, the 
nobility of the man you pushed down to his 
death ?” 

“ Pardon me,” said Palmer Earle, coldly, “ but 
you do not look at this matter in its true light, 
Miss Field ! One could scarcely expect that you 
would, however, as you are Mrs. Graham’s 
sister !” 

“ What could a woman like yourself know of 
business claims?” added John Winthrop. 

“ Oh, yes !” cried Beatrice, in her bitterly dis- 
tinct undertone, that swift gesture of the sweep- 
ing hand. “ That is what you say, in your own 
ignorance ! Listen to me but for one moment 
and then judge, not from a woman’s standpoint, 
but as men — both of you ! Do you not know, 
Mr. Earle, in this great justice of yours, that but 
for my sister’s husband and his great nobility of 
soul you would not stand here facing me 
to-night ? Do you not know — or were you too 
occupied with your weighing of business balances 


The Truth at Last. 


221 


— to discover who it was saved you from the 
water that night when your yacht went to pieces 
out there ?” 

Her passionate hand touched for one instant 
the direction of the point where the struggle 
occurred. 

“You offered a reward for the man who acted 
so nobly that night, but could discover nothing 
definite enough to satisfy you in placing the 
reward, and so you let slip the bravery that still 
places you among men to sit in judgment on 
them ! Only a man as noble and as proud as 
Harold Graham would have withheld the knowl- 
edge that might have given him claim upon your 
leniency ! But would he accept it from the hand 
that would so carelessly and arrogantly push 
him down ? No !” 

She laughed shortly and scornfully and flashed 
her great eyes upon them standing motionless 
before her, struck speechless by the truth at 
last. 

“ Harold Graham was the man who saved your 
life that night, Mr. Earle— the man who died six 
months later, through your hardness — yours and 


222 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


that of your counsel ! And what reward did 
you grant to him ?” 

John Winthrop roused himself from the stupor 
that seemed to have touched him at the full 
knowledge of his hard justice. He also made 
a movement as though pushing down some 
obstacle to his pride. 

“You are mistaken, Miss Field,” he said t 
coldly. “ If it were Mr. Graham, as you say, 
there were those present who would not have 
kept silent, especially at such a time.” 

“Would they not?” she cried. “But there 
are those who are governed by friendship at 
times, Mr. Winthrop, even in your world. If 
you have the daring to doubt my word, ask any 
of the men who were present that night. I have 
this from the lips of one of them myself. You 
find it somewhat too bitter to accept, do you 
not? Indeed, I wonder that the truth does not 
strike you dead. I wonder that you can face me 
and not blush for cruelty to a woman as true and 
pure as you are hard and unjust and cruel in 
your arrogance and pride. Were it I, I think, 
like Judas, I could not endure conscience.” 

Palmer Earle stopped her as she was turning 


The Truth at Last . 


223 


proudly away. Even his cold heart was stirred 
by her revelation. Had not Harold Graham 
been classed his friend until the day of his mis- 
fortune? Should he not have been governed by 
that and the knowledge of his perfect upright- 
ness — never a stain upon the proud name equal 
with his own ? Would he not have placed him- 
self in a better light with the world, so doing ? 
There was no man dared breathe a word against 
him ; but might they not feel that he had been 
unnecessarily harsh ? 

“ Miss Field !” he said. 

He would not speak until he could command 
his voice before this slip of a girl, with her 
scornful eyes and voice, but he must exonerate 
himself from blame. 

She paused, turning her flashing eyes upon 
him in the darkening purple falling upon the 
world of night, lighted only by the amber stars 
in the tender heaven. 

“ If this be true, as you say — and I do not 
doubt it — I must not stand in such a light with 
you and Mrs. Graham as now I fear is the case. 
Had your sister or her husband made known 
this truth to me that day, I would have paid the 


224 


John Whit hr of s Defeat. 


debt I owed Harold Graham by free gift of his 
debt, and Mr. Winthrop would have given me 
his perfect acquiescence. It placed me in a hard 
light most unjustly.” 

The girl flung out her hands, as though she 
would set them from her as far as the world 
would admit, were it in her power, and a quiver 
struck her own face. 

“ Is it possible, after hearing the truth, that 
Mr. Earle can speak of injustice to himself?” she 
asked. “Was it not from the height of honor 
that Harold Graham scorned to win your justice 
by the acknowledgment of your infinitely greater 
debt to him ? . You wrong my sister’s husband 
even in that, Mr. Earle — you and your counsel.” 

John Winthrop’s voice struck like ice upon 
her passionate words. 

“ You are a woman,” he said, coldly, “ Miss 
Field. It is your heart that speaks now, not 
your judgment.” 

“Though you grant a woman no judgment,” 
cried the girl, passionately, with her beautiful face 
flushed in the darkening shadows, “ yet some- 
times the truth strikes from a woman’s hands to 


MR. WINTHROP VENTURES OUT EARLY,” SHE SAID . — See Pctfje 226 




























A Proud Womans Answer. 


225 


cut even your pride, you men, Mr. Winthrop, 
to defeat you !” 

She turned swiftly from them, and went back 
along the plank walk to her waiting friend, a sob 
struggling with her pride, her hands trembling 
with excitement and anger. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A PROUD WOMAN’S ANSWER. 

You are risking the substance of all that you schemed 
To obtain ; and for what ? Some mad dream you have 
dream ’d . — Meredith . 

“Mrs. Graham.” 

Alecia was alone in the pavilion on the follow- 
ing morning, watching the early lights upon the 
ocean ere the breakfast-bell summoned the guests 
from their rooms. She was an early riser, and 
enjoyed the freshness of the morning ere she 
was called to assume her quiet pride for her 
friends. 

The voice uttering her name startled her, 
although she instantly recognized it. In the 


226 John Winthrop's Defeat 


first moment of surprise she turned her exquisite 
eyes upon the speaker, with a flush deepening in 
her cheeks. Then a slow smile of perfect indif- 
ference parted her lips. 

“ Mr. Winthrop ventures out early,” she said. 

The old spirit of rebellion, mingled with that 
subtle power that held him apart from hatred of 
this woman, brought this strange quiver to his 
face like the flash and fading of some far-off 
lightning gleam. His eyes smouldered fire into 
her cool, steady eyes lifted to his. But he would 
not be daunted by this one woman when he had 
lived his life apart from the power of a woman’s 
face and voice. 

He did not offer to be seated, but stood beside 
her very still and proud, but with a stern deter- 
mination upon his face that forced from her a 
feeling of respect for his magnificent self-com- 
mand, even set apart from him as she was in her 
memory of his harshness. 

“ Perhaps Mrs. Graham will find it difficult to 
hear or believe what 1 have to say,” -he said, 
after a moment of utter silence, save for the 
seething of the surf upon the sands and the sharp 
screaming of a gull swooping just over the sur- 


A Proud Woman's Anszver. 


227 


face of the water. “ As I told you that day, I 
try always to be just. I advised my client as I 
believed from my heart was right. I might have 
urged upon him the easier course of yielding to 
your wish, for it was my desire to do so, but I 
deemed it unfair to the man whom I was serving. 
It is always easier to grant happiness to others, 
unbelieving as Mrs. Graham may be of this from 
me ; but I felt that I must not yield to you. 
You know the result. There is no need of going 
over that old difficult ground, that contains only 
sadness for us both.” 

“For you?" queried Alecia, smiling coldly. 
“ Is it possible that sadness also sometimes 
touches Mr. Winthrop?” 

“ I cannot expect kind words from you,” said 
John Winthrop, patiently, though his hands were 
clenched. “ You believe me beyond the pale of 
feeling, Mrs. Graham. I will not attempt to 
argue that point with you ; it would only be 
painful to both of us — ” 

“ Not to me,” interrupted Alecia again, in her 
steady, cold voice, her eyes upon the glimmer- 
ing sails along the ocean before them. “ Mr. 
Winthrop can cause me no more pain than he 


228 John Winthrof s Defeat. 


gave me three years ago. He no longer has 
influence in my life, I assure him.” 

Still very quiet and proud the tall figure stood 
beside her, with the clenched hands and stern 
face and burning eyes. He was looking down 
upon her ; she was watching the distant ships, 
and her slim hands were lightly lying, clasped, 
in her lap. 

“ I learned last night,” continued John Win- 
throp, steadily, resolutely holding her attention, 
“ of the great injustice I did your husband, Mrs. 
Graham — I and my client — unknowing. Had 
you or your husband made known to us that to 
your husband Mr. Earle owed his life, do you 
think — even in your unbelief in our hearts — that 
we would still have refused your pleading?” 

The cold, slow smile was upon her lips as she 
again lifted her face toward his, and the violet 
eyes were calm with scorn. 

“ My husband was too noble to plead for 
gratitude when he was refused simple justice,” 
said Mrs. Graham, steadily. “ I wonder that Mr. 
Winthrop, with his views of life, should enter, 
tain that thought for one moment ! In your rules 
for mankind in general, surely there is no place 


A Proud Woman's Answer. 


229 


for one man’s noble claim to the turning one 
hair’s breadth the wheels of your justice ! Why 
should you — still judging from that standpoint 
— have yielded the fulfilling of a wish, simply 
because the one man had been proved perhaps 
a trifle the braver than others? Would such 
conduct not shortly put out of order the 
machinery of your system ?” 

Still that strong, steady, perfect self-command 
in the tall figure at her side. 

“ I waive all that,” he said. “ Have I not told 
Mrs. Graham that I will not attempt to argue 
for myself ? With a woman’s strange injustice, 
would she not call me false should I lay claim to 
any softness of heart after what has passed 
between us ?” 

Alecia laughed softly, shrugging her shoulders 
with a shade of disdain. 

“ With a woman’s strange injustice,” she 
retorted, lightly, a slight movement of her 
hands, “ what hope have I with Mr. Win- 
throp?” 

Silence again around them, filled by those 
tender sounds of the surf and the calling birds. 

“ I will claim the attention of Mrs. Graham 


2 3 ° John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


but for a moment,” said John Winthrop, coldly. 
“ I came here to say that we regret, my client 
and I, that this fact was not known to us at the 
time, that we might have given Mr. Graham due 
acknowledgment of his bravery. As Mr. Earle 
informed your sister last evening, had we known 
of this, there would have remained no debts 
between your husband and himself. For, doubt 
it as you will, Palmer Earle is a just man, Mrs. 
Graham.” 

Silence again for a moment. 

“ And you ?” she said. 

“ And I ?” 

What passion was in his voice for an instant 
ere he regained his self-command. This tone 
touched her strangely, but she would not even 
turn her graceful head or lift the curling lashes 
from drooping over the level eyes. 

Where had gone his strong will to overcome 
this struggle between his heart and his pride ? 
Where was his great determination to keep for. 
ever his scorn of women, beautiful though many 
of them might be ? Had he set aside his heart 
so long, only to find that it will not forever be 
crushed in its throbbing? Had he discovered, 


A Subtle Whisper. 


231 


after all, that a woman’s hands may throw into 
ruin the mighty castles built by a man’s stern 
pride ? 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A SUBTLE WHISPER. 

Winthrop stooped suddenly, his eyes forcing 
hers to turn to his quivering face. 

4 ‘ Alecia !” he exclaimed in repressed outbreak 
of madness. “ Alecia Graham, does it all end in 
this? Have you come into my life to humiliate 
me? To defeat me? Have you the power to even 
cast aside my knowledge of what your answer 
must be? Do you sit here calmly and scorn me, 
and yet am I powerless to keep from you that I 
love you with an intensity that will not be 
crushed ?” 

For a moment she sat as one stunned, neither 
moving nor speaking. Then she slowly rose. 

“ Surely, Mr. Winthrop is mad !” she said, one 
hand lying upon the back of the. bench from 
which she had risen, as though for strength, the 


232 


John Win t hr op* s Defeat . 


sternness in her musical voice in its low utter- 
ance. “ Does he dream that a woman’s injustice 
even could allow her to forget the memory of 
the man who sent her husband to death ?” 

Then she turned away and walked slowly 
along the promenade toward the hotel, as 
though there had nothing come between them 
in view of the quiet ocean and the sailing ships. 

* ****** 

Mrs. Graham was standing before the mirror, 
shaking out her hair about her shoulders with 
the careless pleasure of a child in its beauty. 
Beatrice was standing at the window watching 
her. 

“And after all that you know of these Win- 
throps, you are still ready to accept the friend- 
ship of his mother!” Beatrice said. 

“ Yes,” answered Alecia, steadily, turning 
toward her sister and holding aside the heavy 
masses of her hair that so the better she might 
meet the flashing eyes opposite. “ It is not only 
unchristian but absolutely absurd, Bee, to refuse 
the friendship of such a charming woman 
because her son was cruel to me once! As I 


A Subtle Whisper . 


233 


have told you, too, every time this subject has 
been mentioned, I believe that Mr. Winthrop 
acted upon conscientious convictions, although 
they were hard and unjust to us. Mrs. Win- 
throp to me is like a sweet poem in the great 
striving battle-hymn of life, and I go to her 
when nothing in all the world else can soothe 
me. I feel always like sitting at her feet when 
she talks. Her soft language is the height and 
depth and breadth of tender feeling ! She affects 
me like a moonlit ocean, or as though some one 
who loved me had said : * Be still !’ ” 

Beatrice’s face softened in spite of her anger. 

“Well, then, how do you like this Jessica' 
Gray, your John Winthrop’s ward, Alecia? 
Surely you do not catalogue her a soothing 
poem ! I set her down as a cat, a leopard, a 
snake — all of them at different times ! Look at 
those opal eyes of hers, that are steel, that are 
stones, that are living fire when she wills!” 

Alecia brushed very slowly and deliberately 
the masses of shining hair about her shoulders 
before she replied. Then she laughed as she 
said : 


2 34 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


“ So far the claws of your cat are smothered 
in velvet to me, Bee.” 

Beatrice shrugged her shoulders suggestively, 
and lifted her arched brows. 

“Well,” she said, crossly, “your cat — pray 
don’t class her as mine — is in love with your 
John Winthrop with her soft purring and velvet 
claws, Alecia Graham !” 

An indescribable expression touched Alecia’s 
face, but she pulled the showering golden hair 
recklessly about her, so that her sister could not 
see. Again she laughed, a strange laugh, a 
sudden, unaccountable pang at her heart, as 
though she were losing some friend who had 
been dear and might have been more! Then 
she frowned, meeting her reflection in the mir- 
ror, and bit her lip. A slow color was burning in 
each cheek. She was intensely angry with her- 
self. Would she allow those words, uttered that 
morning in the pavilion by her husband’s enemy, 
to so move her? 

“ Rather remarkable, Bee,” she said, lightly, 
“ that the woman whom you dislike and call 
leopard should so unburden herself to you ! 


A Subtle Whisper. 


235 


The circumstances must have been extremely 
interesting. Pray, let me hear them !” 

Beatrice’s answering laugh was full of scorn 
and bitterness. She crossed the room, and, tak- 
ing Alecia by both arms, turned her toward the 
light, her eyes keenly set upon her face. 

“ Alecia,” she said, very slowly and sternly, 
“ you may call me absurd again if you like. 
Why should I mind that ? But I wish you to 
answer me one question, and fairly. It may not 
seem much to you ; to me it would be the utter- 
most depths of bitterness ! You are kind to 
every one, even though you scorn them. You 
are kind even to John Winthrop ! Alecia,” the 
very earnestness of her voice deepened that 
strange color in Alecia’s face, though her eyes 
were level meeting her sister’s, “ Alecia Gra- 
ham, if ever you should be kind to that man as 
you might be kind, should he ask you — you 
know what I mean — I should so scorn you that 
never, never could I call you my sister again. 
Remember what he was to your husband, and 
scorn him as any loyal woman should !” 

Alecia hated herself for the mad throbbing of 
her heart. She despised herself for that tell-tale 


236 John Win t Jir op* s Defeat . 


blood in her face. She would willingly have 
crushed out every thought of John Winthrop, 
if so she might trample under foot the memory 
of his eyes and voice and passionate words, and 
that tall, commanding figure standing beside 
her as she wounded him with her scorn ! 

“ You are like the beautiful Queen of the East, 
Bee,” she said, laughing, “ for you talk in 
riddles ! One minute you tell me that Miss 
Gray loves Mr. Winthrop, and the next you 
warn me against some absurd catastrophe of the 
same sort ! My dear little sister is over-sensitive 
in her loyalty, I fear !” 

She was arguing down her heart. Did she 
not know it? Did Beatrice not also know it? 
She released Alecia’s arms, and turned away 
with a sigh. 

“ I never understood you, Alecia,” she said, 
quietly, pausing at the door ; “ I understand you 
less now than ever !” 

Then she passed down the stairs and out upon 
the promenade, toward the beach, wishing to 
fight this fear by herself, as she fought the 
battle of her own heart. 

For Beatrice Field knew that she had given 


A Subtle Whisper. 


237 


her heart to Gregory Bensonhurst beyond recall, 
although he should not know it, for since the 
first night of their return to the island, he had 
shunned her rather than sought her as always 
before he had done. Beatrice Field did not 
preach pride to her sister and fail in practice of 
it herself. 

Cora and Harry Dillingham and Gregory Ben- 
sonhurst were in the pavilion ; she saw them and 
turned about to reach the beach by some other 
way. She could not endure to join them at that 
moment. To cross the sandhills was more diffi- 
cult, but she would have crossed the Great 
Desert had her pride prompted her so to do ; and 
the group in the pavilion watched her crossing 
the sand, and fate decreed that one of this group 
should learn of great injustice done the girl. 

For if Beatrice Field crossed the flaming sand- 
hills to avoid Gregory Bensonhurst, she might 
as well have continued down the promenade and 
come upon him calmly instead of turning from 
her way ; for Gregory Bensonhurst, seeing her, 
left his companions with a few careless words, 
and followed the girl along the beach until he 
came upon her where she sat upon the sand, the 


238 


John Winthrof s Defeat . 


red parasol tilted over the bright face turned to 
the glittering ocean, one slim hand restlessly dig- 
ging in the shining fragments beside her, heaping 
them in a tiny mass and patting them down 
smoothly and hard as though this were her sole 
aim in life. 

She did not hear his approach, and he paused 
for a moment looking down upon her, almost 
fearful now at the decisive moment, remembering 
her strong love and hate. 

She started and glanced up as he uttered her 
name. 

“ My dearest,” he said, reaching out his hands ? 
his eyes pleading with her, his voice stirring her 
heart. 

For a moment a smile stirred upon her lips and 
then died, and dying, swept away all the glow 
and flush of color in her face. A fine scorn 
replaced it, touching her eyes and voice. 

“ I think that Mr. Bensonhurst forgets him- 
self,” she said. Not a movement of a muscle 
betrayed the throbbing of her heart. That slim, 
white, womanly hand lying lightly upon the little 
mound of sand, perfectly steady and untroubled. 


A Subtle Whisper . 


2 39 


But he would not so easily be discomfited and 
stood resolutely beside her. 

“ Beatrice,” he said. “ Dearest ! Listen to me 
before you condemn me. You know that I love 
you. 1 wished to tell you that first evening, but 
you would not listen — and that night I heard, 
and heard so directly that I could scarcely fail to 
believe, that you were indeed come home — I had 
so patiently waited for your coming — but were 
no longer to be won by me. I heard that I had 
even no longer a right to love you, or tell you of 
my love, or even attempt to win you. I did not 
fully realize how much I loved you until that 
moment when I learned that I had lost you — that 
you had come home with your promise given 
another. But I was proud, too. I would not 
wear my heart upon my sleeve. Beatrice, dear- 
est, I have learned this moment from your sister 
that I listened to a lie. I have come to you at 
once for your forgiveness and to tell you of my 
love.” 

He was an intensely proud man, this lover of 
hers, and he stood erect beside her, only his eyes 
and voice pleading with her as he waited her 
reply. But he did not know the girl to whom 


240 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


he had yielded his heart if he dreamed that she 
was lightly to be won. 

Perfectly self-possessed and very beautiful, 
she sat upon the sand, the color of her parasol 
flushing her proud face, the glitter of the sands 
and the restless sea-lights in her eyes. She even 
smiled rather pityingly, looking up to him. 

“ Perhaps you formed your estimate of women 
from the one who told you this lie, Mr. Benson- 
hurst,” she said, unmoved. “ If / loved any one, 
no whisper in the world could turn me, no 
matter how subtly uttered, without convincing 
proof. Had you spoken of it to me, would I not 
have told you truly ? If one takes up with ser- 
pents, one must sometimes be stung. There are 
antidotes for all poisons, if taken in time ; if left 
too long, there is no hope.” 

A deep flush was dawning in his face, that was 
growing steadily more stern under her careless 
eyes. 

“ Is this my answer?” he questioned, bitterly. 
“ Miss Beatrice is witty to-day.” 

“ Am 1 ?” she said coldly, her eyes turned 
from him to the broad reach of gleaming water. 
“ There is sometimes strongest earnest under the 


A Subtle Whisper . 


241 


guise of jest, Mr. Bensonhurst. I was building 
a romance about that sail yonder when you 
interrupted me. I set in on toward some Fortu- 
nate Island in the fragrant seas far south, and 
builded a castle there, and called it Faith in 
Love, and peopled it with fairies, for — ” 

He set aside his pride, and tried once more to 
win her kindly answer. 

“Life is too real and men and women too 
human to bear continued harshness/’ he said, 
gently. “ From your castle in the south can 
you bring no more kind words for me, Beatrice ? 
If I erred it was because 1 love you too intensely 
to bear with patience the thought of losing you. 
Have you no other answer ?” 

She smiled still coldly, but she dared not turn 
her eyes from the distant sail, lest she yield to 
his tenderness. 

“You mistake me utterly,” she said, “Mr. 
Bensonhurst. I have no other answer — no !” 

He ground his heel into the sand, and walked 
away. 


242 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ON THE “BANJ O.” 

All actual heroes are essential men, 

And all men possible heroes. — Mrs. Browning. 

Alecia was sitting at her window in a cool, 
loose gown when, glancing along the sand-hills, 
she saw the erect figure of Gregory Bensonhurst 
as he left Beatrice in his anger. As he drew 
nearer she saw the cloud upon his face, and 
guessed whose pride had wounded him. This 
knowledge, too, struck in upon her heart as 
though she saw some work of her own set 
indelibly there. Then with a sudden impulse 
unusual with her, she lelt her room and went 
down to meet the man as he approached across 
the sands. 

“ You are brave,” he said, quietly, although 
the pallor of his face was touched with intense 
color, meeting any one so unexpectedly, for it 
was mid-day, and few were out. “ I have dared 
the sand-hills, Mrs. Graham, and find them 
unbearable.” 


On the Banjo . 


243 


She smiled at the fierceness of his voice, and 
laid one hand gently upon his arm as he paused 
beside her. There was something in her eyes 
that held his attention. 

“ Mr. Bensonhurst,” she said, sweetly and low, 
and he began to grow ashamed of his anger, 
“ you will forgive me if you consider me pre- 
suming ; I mean it most kindly. I consider you 
my friend — you were my husband’s friend. I 
know why you are angry. No one told me, 
but I know. Perhaps, too, I know Beatrice bet- 
ter than you do with your great love for her ; for 
I know that you love her. 1 also know that she 
loves you. You smile unbelievingly. Believe 
me ; wait, and you will learn for yourself. My 
sister is proud to a degree that few women 
attain, but she is equally loyal, once giving her 
love. Winning her, you win her forever and 
utterly. Is not that worth waiting for ?” 

Her swift, brilliant smile was upon her face, 
and his own lips parted in smiling, looking 
down upon the soft, light fingers upon his arm. 

“ I will wait,” he said, gently. “You are like 
a good angel to one in trouble, Mrs. Graham. I 
do love Beatrice, and I thought I might win her, 


244 


John Win t hr op's Defeat. 


until there came a whisper that she was no 
longer to be won, and that clearing away, her 
own reply to-day. But now I shall hope and 
wait, and if time proves that she does not love 
me — ” 

“You need not fear,” said Alecia softly, fill- 
ing the pause of his voice. Her eyes lifted to 
his were perfectly steady ; and as they passed up 
the staircase together, parting at her door, a new 
faith in woman entered the soul of Gregory Ben- 
sonhurst and stung his easy-going spirit into a 
more acute life and ambition. 

Mrs. Graham returned to her room, seated 
herself again at the open window, and looked 
across the sand-hills to the glittering stretch of 
water bearing the ships right royally upon their 
way, and the smile was gone from her face, 
and only sadness rested there, the grieved look 
in the violet eyes betraying a troubled heart. 

“ Chiding my sister for her pride that wounds 
a true heart, am / free from the same? Was I 
unwomanly in my harshness to him ?’’ 

But going down to dinner, dressed in a tender- 
hued, clinging gown, with her delicate laces and 
perfumes, no one would guess of the under-cur- 


On the Banjo. 


245 


rent of bitterness or the sadness behind the brave 
eyes. Her wit and laughter made the dinner 
one to enjoy and remember as one of the pleas- 
ant things of the day. 

Her seat at the table was between Mrs. Win- 
throp and Jessica Gray, and she looked like a 
rose contrasted with the quiet elder woman, 
and the languid, pale beauty ; and those who 
knew her during that other summer, whispered 
of how much more beautiful and charming she 
had grown during the past three years of sor- 
row and trial. 

Perhaps the knowledge of this was strong 
upon John Winthrop, facing her at the table. 
He left the hotel that day on which he had made 
known to this woman his proud heart, going to 
the city upon business for Palmer Earle, and it 
was only this day that he returned, summoned 
by his mother in her anxiety for his good. Per- 
haps, too, this subtle change in the proud face 
of Alecia gave him courage to request her to 
walk with him upon the sands. 

Is was a simple request and utterly insignifi- 
cant, but Jessica Gray, catching the words, 
moved gracefully and languidly across the room 


246 John W in thro p's Defeat . 


toward them from the window, and murmured 
in her liquid voice — so strangely fascinating — 
that Mrs. Winthrop was so anxious for Mrs. 
Graham to go with her to the pavilion for a 
little while before she should retire to her room, 
although she, Jessica, had taken it upon herself 
to request the favor, knowing what friends they 
were. 

So it was that Alecia smiled pleasantly up at 
John Winthrop, and said she must go to his 
mother, knowing that he would excuse her upon 
that plea. 

“ Mamma Winthrop has gone to her room for 
a moment,” said Jessica, calmly, “ but she will 
return directly. She has such an intense admira- 
tion for you, Mrs. Graham, that I often think 
how really wicked it is for her son to be so hard 
upon you. But, then, Jack is so honorable and 
strict himself that he could not think lightly of 
wrong in others, and believing that you swore 
to a lie when they were trying to prove the 
extent of your husband’s failure, of course he 
cannot forget it. You see, you came back with 
plenty of money, and not until after your hus- 
band died. But you mustn’t feel cross with me. 


On the Banjo . 


247 

dear Mrs. Graham, for I surely could not believe 
such a thing/’ 

Never in her life had such fire blazed in 
Alecia Graham’s eyes as at that moment, facing 
Jessica Gray upon the hotel piazza. The sweet 
violet color deepened to intense purple ; her face 
was touched with the snow of passion ; uncon- 
sciously the slim hand holding the ivory fan 
snapped the frail sticks under the grasp of the 
slender fingers, fighting back the blow to her 
honor and pride. The music of her voice, too, 
was frozen with pain, and the passionate heart 
beat, fiercely under the silk and lace of her 
gown. 

“ I beg you to thank Mr. Winthrop,” she said, 
haughtily, “ for his courteous opinion of me, 
Miss Gray, and inform him that, perhaps, my 
husband’s honor is more spotless than his own. 
He could never have insulted a woman ! One 
would scarcely have believed this of your 
upright guardian !” 

Turning away, her face still angry, she encoun- 
tered Mrs. Winthrop. 

“ Thee is troubled, dear,” said this gentle 
woman, in her soft, low voice, laying one hand 


248 


John WinthroJ s Defeat. 


detainingly upon Alecia’s arm, searching the 
pallid, scornful face with kindly eyes. “ Will 
thee tell thy trouble to me that I may help thee, 
if I may ? I am old and thee is young, and 
sorrow should not come too near thee to thy 
hurt !” 

Alecia shook her head, an icy smile upon her 
lips. She must get away to her room and con- 
quer this emotion, lest she betray her heart. 

“There is nothing,” she said, steadily, “that I 
should tell you, or any one, dear Mrs. Winthrop. 
I have heard cruel news of a friend, that is all, 
but one cannot depend too much upon one’s 
friends. If we honored them less we would be 
less wounded when they fall !” 

She smiled again quite steadily and turned 
away up the staircase, fortunate in meeting no 
one on her way to her room. For this thrust of 
subtle words was so sudden and keen that she 
had no opportunity of hiding how much she was 
wounded. She would conquer it presently 
alone, in her room. He should never guess how 
he had wounded her. 

And meanwhile, Jessica Gray was languidly 
strolling along the promenade toward the pavil- 


On the Banjo . 


249 


ion, with Mrs. Winthrop and her son, and was 
softly murmuring, looking up to the tall man 
beside her, that flickering flame in her eyes, 
what a charming women Mrs. Graham was, if 
only she were not so harsh and unforgiving ! 

“ I could scarcely believe my hearing,” she 
said, softly, breathing a sort of fascination, even 
upon this quiet man, “ when she told me to-night 
that, in spite ot all men say or think, her hus- 
band’s honor is higher than yours, Jack ! What 
a strangely vindictive family they must be, 
judging from these two! I would not care to 
call either of them my friend !” 

Under her curled lashes she saw that her 
words struck home, from the pallor upon his 
face and the sudden convulsive setting of his 
lips. The flame in her eyes was vivid, and he 
should have been warned, but who pauses to 
examine the arrow that strikes? 

“Thee must have misunderstood Mrs. Gra- 
ham, Jessica,” said Mrs. Winthrop, mildly. 
“ Thee is oftentime too impulsive in thy judg- 
ments. Mrs. Graham is my friend. Remember 
that in thy speaking of her, my dear. She 
knows that John is thoroughly upright, and she 


250 


John Winthrop s Defeat. 


is not one to condemn any act of justice. I 
scarcely think that she could have said what thee 
repeats.” 

“Well, I am sure it is nothing to me ,” said 
Jessica, carelessly. She was satisfied with her 
shaft of subtle words. She knew ‘perfectly well 
that she had wounded her guardian. She knew 
too, that he loved this other woman. 

And presently John Winthrop left them and 
no one saw him again that night. And Alecia 
betrayed no sign of her struggle on the follow- 
ing day, even joining a little sailing party in the 
Banjo because John Winthrop was going, and 
she would have him understand that his presence 
was nothing to her. 

“ I am almost afraid to venture,” said George 
Priestly, as they stood on the pier watching him 
making preparations for their comfort. “ That 
thin cloud over there in the northwest look like 
a squall. It isn’t a specially nice thing, ladies, 
to be caught on the bay at such a time.” 

“ Oh, but it simply couldn’t storm, you know,” 
said Althea Dunraven, persuasively, “ because I 
wish to go so much, Mr. Priestly.” 


On the Banjo. 


251 


“Very well,” he said, smiling. “ I will not go 
beyond quiet water anyway, Miss Dunraven.” 

“ Danger gives spice to pleasure, Mr. Priestly,” 
said Beatrice, laughing. She was bright and 
witty and reckless of speech because of the 
presence of her lover. He should not guess that 
her heart was heavy. “ How stupid life would 
be if one could know the end of everything.” 

“ But do you truly think there will be a 
storm ?” queried Althea, with puckering brows. 

“ Nonsense,” said Miss Catherwood, impolitely. 
“ Don’t be absurd, Althea. Do you imagine that 
that thin, streaky cloud could do us harm ? It is 
just a little bit of drift from some far-off bank of 
cloud, /am not afraid !” 

“ If Miss Catherwood has no fear, why should 
we who profess to be brave ?’’ asked Alecia 
amused. 

“To profess a belief does hot always signify its 
truth, Mrs. Graham,” said John Winthrop, coldly. 
He joined the sailing-party upon impulse, when 
Jessica positively affirmed that he would not go. 
“ We may often be more cowardly than we show.” 

“ Then,” said Alecia, calmly, dipping her hand 
deep in the water as the Banjo swung away from 


252 


John Win t hr op's Defeat. 


the pier and caught a thread of breeze and filled 
away merrily, “ if so, we prove that we have con- 
quered weakness, Mr. Winthrop. To hide fear — 
or pain — in our own hearts makes us the more 
strong in character. It proves that we . have 
struggled — and conquered.” 

What was there in this woman that drew his 
soul up to the admiration no matter how fiercely 
he set her away ? He had it in his heart to leave 
the hotel that morning after Jessica’s subtle 
words, but he scorned this as weakness. Would 
he run from any woman? Would he be 
worsted by a pair of level violet eyes or a smile 
or a rose-leaf mouth? He, John Winthrop, 
hitherto unmoved, hitherto rather scorning 
women save his mother. 

“ Nevertheless,” he said coldly, “ an open fight 
is much more honorable than a sly wound such 
as Brutus gave, Mrs. Graham.” 

“ Yes,” she said steadily, a strange, tense line 
around her mouth, though a smile was in her 
eyes, and her white hand splashed the water 
carelessly ; “ and a man’s strange way of believ- 
ing the worst always of a woman, Mr. Winthrop. 
I wonder that you could express such a thought.” 


On the Banjo, 


253 


l ie hated her ; he would hate her, he said to 
himself, savagety gnawing his mustache as he 
leaned back against the railing, and looked from 
her bewildering face to the strange streak of 
cloud, gauze-like, now almost overhead, as 
though some mighty wind-force drove it ruth- 
lessly up, though there was scarcely now enough 
wind to fill the sail as it spread to meet it. 

Priestly, too, was watching that film of cloud, 
though not with mere idle curiosity, and he kept 
the ropes taut, ready for an emergency. He 
would not alarm his companions, but as that 
cloud sifted thinly up the heavens by some 
unseen force, he felt more and more convinced 
that he should have refused to come out while it 
remained. 

Still, he would not alarm any one, and, ready 
for what might come, he turned his attention to 
his guests, and at the request of Althea, echoed 
by the others, he started a song Leland had writ- 
ten to the Banjo , in memory of their many pleas- 
ant trips upon it, striking light accompaniment 
upon the strings of the banjo he had brought. 
He had set the words to lively music, and as 
Miss Catherwood and Althea joined sturdily in 


254 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


the chorus the song drifted merrily over the 
water. 

It’s all very well to be witty ; 

It’s all very nice to be wise ; 

But light hearts are better than learning. 

And laughter than sighs. 

Chorus : 

Then hey for the bonny boat Banjo ! 

And ho for a sail on the bay ! 

With the strings of the cordage a-quiver, 

And tinkle and tingle of spray ! 

Let gray clouds hang o’er the water. 

With light scuds threatening rain, 

Sunlight will come when the clouds drift, 

And blue skies again. 

The boat flies, a bird for our pleasure, 

Its white wings outspread to the wind, 

As with gay hearts and light words and laughter, 

We leave care behind. 

Let Diogenes scowl and grumble 
In his cynical tub for a boat, 

We find all men equal and honest 
When we are afloat. 

They were laughing and very merry, criticis- 
ing or complimenting Leland upon the song, 
none of them save Priestly thinking of harm, 
when — 


From Death's Presence . 


255 


There came a sigh over the water like a mon- 
ster’s breath, a sudden bending and twisting of 
the trees on the distant shore, a shriek of wind, 
the rattle of falling sail and swift thud of the 
rudder turning to meet the squall ; and the 
Banjo lurched and struggled up, and endeavored 
to beat around to the wind, answering her helm, 
but was struck down and over, and the waves 
went over her passengers ! 


CHAPTER XX. 

FROM DEATH’S PRESENCE. 

When all’s done, all tried, all counted here. 

All great arts, and all good philosophies, 

This love just puts its hand out in a dream. 

And straight outstretches all things. 

* * * * * * 
Passion is 

But something suffered, after all. 

— Aurora Leigh. 

The squall passed nearly as quickly as it came. 
The Banjo righted herself as soon as she was 
lightened ; her ropes were trailing in the water, 
and the rudder swinging to and fro under the 


2 56 John Win t hr op's Defeat . 


r 


force of the shock and her swinging boom 
George Priestly, on the lookout for some such 
thing as this, had kept firm hold of one of the 
ropes, and had shouted to the others to do the 
same ; but only he had presence of mind enough 
to obey. 

Althea was clinging to him, frantic with terror, 
and he was soon back in the boat with her 
drawn up beside him ; and then with deft move- 
ments he had the sail hauled up to the rising 
breeze and was guiding the boat to where the 
others were struggling in the water. 

He was not at all fearful of the consequences 
of the accident, for with ordinary level-headed- 
ness and prompt action they could be returned 
to the. boat none the worse for the wetting. 
And, in truth, it was scarcely three minutes later 
that all were safely back in the Banjo — all save 
Alecia Graham and John Winthrop. 

Alecia, in falling, was struck senseless by the 
sudden swerve of the boom, and had sunk 
instantly, coming to the surface some few feet 
away. Her beautiful sunny hair was unfastened 
from its pins and drifted like ropes of gold about 
her death-like face, She was still unconscious 


From Death's Presence . 


257 


and drifting farther away from the boat and her 
friends. 

John Winthrop, sitting beside her when the 
accident occurred, was also struck by the jibing 
boom, but in such a manner as to receive a deep 
cut in his head just at the edge of his hair ; but 
the dash into the water revived his instant’s 
giddiness and with the instinct of love — more 
powerful than hate at such a moment — he looked 
about him for Alecia. 

But the wound upon his head was severe, 
unconscious though he was of the fact, and at 
first his sight was blurred and he saw only the 
dark outline of the Banjo. Then this pallid face 
with the drift of gold hair about it touched the sur- 
face of the throbbing water, and utterly forget- 
ting himself in his thought of her, he struck out 
to her rescue. 

For the second time she sank and rose ere he 
reached her, swimming as he was powerfully ; 
and as he caught her to him, keeping himself 
afloat now with one arm, his eyes burned down 
upon her as though they held the might to 
restore life should life have gone. 

And then they were lifted into the boat, and 


2 58 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


all things went out of John Winthrop’s mind for 
many days — even the consciousness of this one 
woman. 

“ By George !” said Lane Leland, in a low 
tone, as they used every effort to restore these 
two to consciousness. “ But there are the 
strangest of jumbles in this life ! These two 
sworn enemies seem forever to be thrown across 
each other’s lives, and always in some such 
dramatic manner. What will it end in, I 
wonder ?” 

“ Oh, don’t !” moaned Miss Catherwood, 
piteously, doing her best to obey instructions for 
restoring consciousness to the beautiful face of 
Alecia upon Beatrice’s shoulder. “ It is so 
dreadful, dreadful to have her look like this, 
Lane ! What can we do and why did we ever 
come ?” 

“ Hush !” said Beatrice, commandingly, lifting 
her face for an instant toward Bess. There was 
a tender light upon her face and a soft note in 
her musical voice. “ This is only a swoon, Bess, 
she will be better presently — she must be better 
presently! There! See! She is smiling! 
Alecia dearest, you are better now ? It was 


From Death's Presence. 


259 


dreadful, but it is all over. Rub her hands, 
Bess, and we’ll make her stay conscious.” 

But Alecia Graham had always been a remark- 
ably perfect woman physically, and even this 
blow upon her head, although it left her ner- 
vous and weak for several days, proved no more 
serious. The thoughtful attentions of her friends 
was very delightful to .her during these days of 
languor, though not one of them guessed the 
thoughts that filled every waking hour and 
throbbed in her heart and her soul. John Win- 
throp had saved her ; had saved her when else 
she would have died, they said, saying nothing 
of his condition, lest it needlessly startle her — 
and what was John Winthrop’s life or death to 
her? And yet John Winthrop had not come to 
her or sent her any message during all those 
days. 

She would not ask the cause ; she was too 
proud to crave his tenderness ; she Could speak 
quite calmly of the accident, and Mr. Winthrop’s 
kindness, but she did not once ask why he 
remained away, never dreaming of the cause. 
How could she know that he was tying deadly 
ill but three doors from her across the corridor? 


260 


John W inthrof s Defeat . 


To be sure she had asked at first with her usual 
thoughtfulness if he were injured, but her friends 
turned the question aside, and she never guessed 
that he was dying giving her back to life. 

Even Mrs. Winthrop came to her when she 
was not with her son; and still no one told her. 
How could they know what it meant to this 
proud woman whether, or not her husband’s 
enemy came to her? Perhaps Beatrice guessed, 
but if she did, she gave no sign. She had not 
forgiven John Winthrop, even though he lay 
dying after saving her sister’s life. 

“ How strangely quiet the house is,” Alecia 
said one day, lying back among the cushions of 
her lounging-chair at the window, turning her 
sunny head and meeting Beatrice’s eyes. “ I 
have noticed it so often these last few days. 
Why is it, Bee? Do they think that I am very 
ill, or is there anything truly wrong more than I 
know?” 

She leaned forward in sudden new-born excite- 
ment, reaching out her hands to her sister, a 
faint, quivering smile upon her lips, her eyes 
striving to search out the truth in the other’s 
quiet face. 


From Death! s Presence. 


261 


“ You must not excite yourself, Alecia,” said 
Beatrice, quite calmly, taking her sister’s hands 
in hers and patting them affectionately. “ Why 
should you, indeed ? The heat is intense enough 
surely to make any one quiet. It may be because 
you are in this room, instead of out of doors that 
you notice the quiet.” 

Alecia turned away her head restlessly upon 
the cushions, and watching the group upon the 
sands, and the lifting and falling of the breakers, 
a soft sigh on her lips. 

“ Perhaps you are right, dear,” she said, gen- 
tly. “ Only if you are deceiving me in any way 
I shall find it hard to forgive you, Bee ! Life is 
too short for misunderstandings ! I have learned 
that, lying here.” 

She turned back to her sister again after a 
moment, a new touch upon her face. 

“ There is always good in life, Bee,” she added, 
softly, a wistful look in her eyes, a slow, radiant 
smile on her lips, “ if we take it at its best and 
make it better! No one is ever all bad or all 
good, and looking for the mote in another’s eye 
one may overlook the deadly beam in one’s 

t” 

own ! 


26 2 


John Win thro ft's Defeat. 


Beatrice changed color and then laughed, ris- 
ing as Frances entered, and stooping to kiss 
Alecia ere she left the room. 

“ No wonder philosophers choose solitude,” 
she said, lightly, “if it brings such wisdom, 
Alecia!” 

“ I wish that this had never happened,” said 
Beatrice, as she descended the staircase on leav- 
ing Alecia's room. “ Who knows what it may 
lead to, if he should recover? Alecia has such 
strange ideas of honor ! But after all there is 
little fear, when they say that he can scarcely 
survive to-morrow, poor fellow !” 

Softness was slowly creeping into her heart 
for this man who had rescued her sister in spite 
of his own condition, but in her pride she fought 
back even the thought and would acknowledge 
it to no one. She recognized the kindly 
thought under Alecia’s words, and realized that 
she was unjustly harsh toward John Winthrop 
when her own heart was hard ; but even so she 
would not yield her pride. 

Gregory Bensonhurst was in the pavilion as 
she approached, and she would not turn back 
now. He saw her also and rose to meet her, 


From Death's Presence . 263 

perfectly courteous, otherwise merely a friend. 
His lazy brown eyes lightened and flashed look- 
ing into hers, but that was all. 

“ You have just come from your sister, Miss 
Beatrice? I trust that she is improving? This 
deadly heat is overpowering to any one, 
especially one who is weak. They say that 
Winthrop is sinking fast, poor fellow ! They 
have two doctors now, you know, from the city, 
and they never leave him ; but what can they 
do, when he is so low ? Some mental trouble 
too, they said, I think. Some weight upon his 
mind that makes it worse for him to pull along. 
It is very sad. Winthrop’s a thoroughly good 
man.” 

“ It is very sad,” said Beatrice, gently. She 
could not drive him away when he was speaking 
of death, and she could not find it in her heart to 
be other than truly sorry for the man so ill. 

“ And your sister, Miss Beatrice ?” 

“ Alecia is recovering more every day,” she 
answered, steadily. “ It seems strange, does it 
not, that they two should be the ones to have 
been most hurt, Mr. Bensonhurst?” 

Then she bit her lip and paused, shaking out 


264 


John Win t hr op's Defeat. 


her parasol to raise it. It were better to forget 
that day on board the Banjo — better every way ; 
for remembering it she must also remember the 
strength of his arm and his tender words in her 
fear. She felt the deepening color in her face 
and hastened to raise her parasol. 

“ It is so provoking !” she said impatiently. 

He took it from her hands with quiet authority 
and, raising it, held it over her, walking -at her 
side. They were upon the sands and alone, save 
a few straying far up the beach. 

“ Beatrice,” he said, and she knew what he 
wjDuld say from the gentleness of his voice, 
although he did not offer to touch even her hand, 
“ some time ago you sent me away with a riddle 
on your lips. You did not tell me that you did 
not love me, but you sent me away. Perhaps 
you told me there was no hope, but I would not 
allow myself to believe that, for I loved you too 
truly. So I waited with wonderful patience, 
hoping that you would recall me ; but you did 
not. Beatrice, that day when all of us might 
have met death, I knew that I had waited long 
enough to learn your heart. I can be patient no 
longer. I ask you again to-day if you can tell 


From Death's Presence. 


265 


me truly, as you would tell the man who loves 
you, if still there is no hope ?” 

She frowned, her eyes studiously bent upon 
the sand, trying to keep her lips steady and stern. 
But she must answer him ; she would not let 
him think her weak and foolish and incapable of 
sending him away if she would. 

“ I am waiting, dearest,” said Gregory Ben- 
sonhurst, quietly. 

And then, as though some powerful wave had 
risen and swept away her anger and her pride 
and left only love, she lifted her eyes softly and 
sweetly to his, uttering no word, and clasped her 
two hands around his arm, her lips trembling, 
her face radiant. 

“ Alecia was right,” he said, by and by, as they 
sat on the sands, watching the ocean and the 
ships and the light summer clouds, but very 
happy in their indolence. “ All things do come 
to one who waits, my dearest.” 

“Yes,” said Beatrice, slowly and reluctantly, 
as though even in her own happiness she could 
not wish happiness to come to the man she had 
so resolutely hated. “ And who knows but it 
may come even to John Winthrop, Gregory ? I 


266 


John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


have feared so. I am wise, too, maybe, if I am 
not Alecia. Perhaps the great mantle of charity 
that we hear so much about, but seldom see, has 
been folded away so long, save a scant corner 
that is dragged heavily upon some shoulder, 
that we have almost forgotten to unfold it as we 
do our other good wrappings, to discover 
whether the moths have gotten in it or no. We 
sometimes unfold precious old stuffs, you know, 
only to find that they fall to dust and ashes in 
our hands. And who knows but death may be 
the moth that discovers the forgotten mantle, 
Gregory — death lays bare so many things!” 

“ What do you mean, dearest ?” questioned her 
lover. 

But Beatrice shook her head and would say 
no more, though he shrewdly knew that it was 
of John Winthrop she spoke! 

But one might have thought that she knew as 
well as her lover of what was passing unseen, 
for at that moment Mrs. Winthrop, tapping upon 
Alecia’s door, and being summoned to enter, 
crossed swiftly to her side, a smile on the beauti- 
ful woman’s face lifted to hers bending above 
her, as she held out her hands, keeping her voice 


Retribution . 


267 


steady by strong will, as she said in her gentle 
voice with the tender accent : 

“ Mrs. Graham ! If thee loves me, or if thee 
loves my son, come to him ! He is dying and 
calls for thee !” 


CHAPTER XXL 

RETRIBUTION. 

1 had known the same 
Except that I was prouder than I knew, 

And not so honest. Ay, and as I live, 

I should have died so, crushing in my hand 
This rose of love, the wasp inside and all, 

Ignoring ever to my soul and you 

Both rose and pain — except for this great loss 

This great despair. 

— Mrs. Browning. 

Mrs. Graham’s face was like the face of one 
dead, as she sat for a moment speechless and 
stunned by the sudden rush of the truth upon 
her mind. Those who loved her had kept this 
from her, believing that it was right for them so 
to do. Beatrice had put her question aside only 


268 


John Win t hr op' s Defeat. 


an hour before, and she had told her — what had 
she told her save that she would find it hard 
to forgive should she discover that they were 
deceiving her. And while she had been holding 
bitter thoughts in her heart of John Winthrop, 
he was lying at death’s door — and she had not 
known. 

He, her husband’s enemy, the man she loved 
— for she knew that she did love him in that one 
swift moment when truth struck deep in her 
soul. Cowardly, perhaps, to kiss the hand that 
wounded ; undoubtedly disloyal to her husband’s 
memory; but she was facing truth, and this was 
truth. 

Frances crossed the room swiftly to her sister’s 
side, seeing this change upon her face. She 
stooped tenderly beside her, in her great love. 

“You should not have told her, Mrs. Win- 
throp !” she exclaimed, an indignant flash in her 
usually steady eyes. “ She did not know — you 
knew that we kept it from her — and it is a severe 
shock to her in her weakness. Why should your 
son always work her harm ?” 

But the sorrow in the gentle face disarmed her 


Retribution . 


269 


anger, and her voice was soft like music, as she 
added : 

“ Forgive me, dear Mrs. Winthrop ! I am so 
very sorry for you ! But you do not know — 
how can you know what my sister has suffered 
through him !” 

“ Thee does not know my son,” said Mrs. 
Winthrop, simply. “ Will thee come to him, 
Mrs. Graham ? He asked for thee or I should 
not have come. Remember that he is dying.” 

Alecia crushed down the tumult in her heart. 
She pushed gently aside her sister’s detaining 
hands and arose. Was it a wonder that even her 
husband’s enemy should call for her when he lay 
dying Frances thought bitterly, watching her as 
she moved slowly but resolutely across the room, 
her hand in Mrs. Winthrop’s very warm and 
close. 

No words passed between them as they crossed 
the corridors to John Winthrop’s room. Some 
subtle magnetism made known to each the other’s 
heart, without the need of speech. At his door- 
way they paused for an instant, for Alecia was 
still very weak, to regain composure, and then 
quietly entered the silent room. 


270 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


The sick man’s eyes were closed, but they 
opened instantly, resting upon Alecia’s lace, and 
a smile stirred the white lips. He reached out 
his hand falteringly, and she crossed over, tak- 
ing it in hers, her smile answering his in spite of 
her trembling lips and tearful violet eyes. His 
love for her illumined his face, wan and pallid 
though it was, and broke down all barriers of 
hatred or pride in the presence of death. 

“My dearest!” he said faintly and slowly. 
“ Forgive me. I could not die without seeing 
you once more, even though I know how you 
scorn me !” 

She bent pityingly above him. 

“ There is no scorn in all my heart,” she said, 
sweetly. “ Do not think of that any more, Mr. 
Winthrop.” 

The physicians had moved to the windows 
out of hearing, and Mrs. Winthrop would also 
have gone away but her son reached out his 
hand, drawing her down upon the bed upon the 
other side. 

“Do not go away,” he said, gently. “You 
know how I love Alecia, mother. Promise me 


Retribution. 


271 


that nothing' shall come between your friendship 
for her.” 

“Thee knows,” said Mrs. Winthrop, softly, 
“ how I love her, John.” 

“ No one,” said Alecia, still very sweetly, 
“ could help loving your mother, Mr. Winthrop ! 
Need I promise more than that?” 

John Winthrop smiled. There was some 
strange radiance in his face lifted to hers. 

“ Such friendship,” he said, slowly, a pause 
between his words, “ is the height of my desire. 
Alecia Graham, living I would never have told 
you of my love, knowing so well your scorn ; 
but, dying, may I not say what it has been to 
me to know that even unsuccessfully I have 
loved such a woman? You called me hard and 
unjust. If I was so it was through mistaken 
zeal, and because then you had not come into my 
life ! Alecia Graham, every tender chord of my 
heart was wakened and vibrated for you. I love 
you as I think few men can love. 

“ Doubtless, were it not that I am dying, even 
now you would turn from me with scorn, as 
upon that other day when I dared tell you of 
my love. I will not, although 1 am dying, 


2J2 


John Win thro p's Defeat. 


attempt to exonerate myself from the charges of 
cruelty made against me by you and your 
friends. I can see, perhaps, clearer now, and 
recognize that I must have seemed very hard 
to you with your tender heart ! I do not know 
why I should have loved you ; I seldom saw 
you ; but for three years your face has been in 
my heart to soften my judgment ! I struggled 
against it — for I am proud, too, Alecia — but how 
can one crush out love like mine !” 

He paused, exhausted, but would not let go 
the soft hand he held, nor close his eyes for 
longer than a moment lest he lose sight of her 
face. A quivering, beautiful, tender face, indeed, 
for dying eyes to rest upon ! 

She was struggling with her pride and the 
memory of her hate, and had no answer for a 
few moments. Then her womanhood and gentle- 
ness overpowered even this strong barrier, and, 
kneeling down beside the bed, she laid both 
hands over his, an exquisite flush of color upon 
her face, her eyes purple with the depth of her 
tenderness and pity as she murmured, with soft 
distinctness : 

“John Winthrop, had they longer kept from 


Retribution . 


273 


me that you were so ill, you would have never 
known but that I still hated you. Perhaps I 
should still hate you. Sometimes I could almost 
hate myself for not doing- so, for you were very, 
very cruel and hard with me when you might 
have been kind. Still, in spite of that, John 
Winthrop, and in spite of everything — I love 
you!” 

The sudden lightening of his face was like the 
glow of sunset. The old flash deepened in his 
eyes looking up to hers. Strength from her 
slim fingers and musical voice seemed to run 
along his blood. 

“ Alecia !” he said. 

She drew a little away from him, the flush 
deepening in her face, touching the beautiful 
face, falling even to the lace at her throat ; her 
lips trembled with her speaking. 

“John Winthrop,” she said, “ I am a proud 
woman. As I tell you, I could find it in my heart 
to hate myself for loving you, were it not that 
hatred has died from my heart. You saved my 
life the other day. Perhaps you think that 1 
did not know it ? But for that alone I do not 
love you. Why should I ? Would not any man 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


274 


have saved a woman so ? And why should I 
forgive you that old wound to my pride, to my 
truth, to my womanhood? Now, thinking that 
you should have believed me guilty of perjury 
at that trial and sworn against the truth for the 
saving of a few more dollars, perhaps, from my 
husband’s fortune, I feel the hot shame in my 
face that I can still say that l love you. Accord- 
ing to the exact measure of your justice, I should 
let you die and yield not one kind word. Were 
I a man, perhaps I would do it. But I am a 
woman and it may be that a woman’s injustice 
makes her weak.” 

His face was working strangely ; his hold on 
her hands tightened ; his eyes held hers. 

“ Alecia !” he said. “ Alecia Graham, who 
told you that there was ever such thought of you 
in my mind? Do you not know that such belief 
of you would be impossible to any one? Would 
I, loving you, accuse you of such perjury ? I 
believed you utterly. I believed you even when 
my will, fighting with my heart, bade me con- 
demn you. Always in my thoughts you have 
been everything that is good, though I struggled 
to argue it down. I knew my heart long ago, 


Retribution . 


275 


and struggled with it. No woman had such' 
power over me before ; and would I, I urged 
with my heart, allow the one woman who must 
hate me to possess such power? It has been a 
bitter battle from that day, and I am defeated, in 
spite of the will I had prided myself overcome 
any pain the heart might hold; but I never 
accused you of wrong, Alecia. Who suggested 
such thought to you ?” 

The sweet lips closed tightly over the knowl- 
edge ; she shook her head ; her eyes were 
exquisite in their light and color. 

“ What does it matter ?” she said, steadily. 
“ Perhaps one is too ready to believe ill of even 
the one whom one loves. I hold no hardness in 
my heart toward any one, John Winthrop.” 

He was silent for a moment, lying with closed 
eyes, no great change upon him save the short, 
steady breathing. Then opening his eyes upon 
her, he said slowly, and with a touch of his old 
sternness in his weak voice : 

“ Perhaps 1 know who told you that, Alecia. 
If I do, as you say — what matter ? Love should 
not too readily believe ill. All that is gone. I 


276 John W inthrof s Defeat. 

am only very happy, knowing that you love 
me.” 

Then, by and by, he whispered faintly : 

“ You forgive me, Alecia — everything?” 

And she answered softly, her low voice like 
music in its tenderness : 

“ I forgive you everything, John, dear — for us 
both.” 

Again the gray eyes closed with peace upon 
the face, but the kneeling woman did not move 
or turn her eyes away lest his should open, seek- 
ing hers. The minutes ticked away upon the 
clock across the room. Twenty minutes — thirty 
— forty-five — fifty — sixty minutes — one hour. And 
still no other change upon the sleeper ; and still 
the woman did not rise from her knees or remove 
her hands from his. 

One of the physicians, believing that death had 
come unrecognized, crossed the room and stood 
beside her with his eyes upon the quiet face 
among the pillows. Then he stooped and laid 
his fingers lightly over the pulse in the thin, 
sinewy wrist 

“ 1 congratulate you,” he said, gravely, his eyes 
upon Mrs. Winthrop’s gentle face, although he 


Grain from Chaff. 


277 


knew that he was also speaking to this other 
immovable woman. “ The fever has turned. 
He will recover, madam.” 

But Alecia did not move, did not speak, did 
not, apparently, comprehend the meaning of his 
words or turn her eyes from the peaceful, sleep- 
ing face. 

With a swift movement of her hands as though 
in gratitude, Mrs. Winthrop moved around the 
bed to Alecia’s side. Laying one hand tenderly 
upon her shoulder, she said, sweetly and bro- 
kenly : 

“ Come away, Mrs. Graham, dear, and rest. 
Thee has saved his life.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

GRAIN FROM CHAFF. 

What heights we know not — but the way we know. 

And how, by mounting ever, we attain, 

And so climb on. — Mrs. Browning. 

Moonlight over the ocean and the golden path 
across the waters like a road to the Celestial 
City! Jewels scattered along the beach where 
the breakers threw their spray, murmuring a 


278 


John Winthrop's Defeat. 


strong, deep, musical song of the world’s love 
and the pride of human hearts ! Silence and 
peace and beauty. Even the sand hills were 
formed into mysterious heaps of golden light, 
and shadow stretching away to the beach. 

Alecia Graham was sitting at her window in 
the full tide of this glory of moonlight, her pale- 
blue wrapper making more exquisite the pale 
beau'ty of her face and the golden hair loosened 
about her shoulders. Her hands were lying 
idly in her lap, very slim and frail and white 
upon the blue of her gown. She was smiling 
with her face turned towards the soft shadows 
beyond the window’s circle of radiance. 

Beatrice was sitting there, hidden by the fall 
of lace drapery and the intense light within the 
window. Her face was unseen, but her voice 
was sometimes very stern and sometimes low 
with tenderness and love. 

“And in spite of everthing Alecia — remember- 
ing all the old, cruel wounds from his hands — 
you love him, and have told him that you do ?” 

“ In spite of everything, Bee.” 

“ And you are not ashamed to own it even to 
me, Alecia, in your pride and womanhood, with 


Grain from Chaff. 279 

that betraying tenderness in your voice! Why 
do I not hate you as I believed that I should if 
ever you gave your love to that man — your 
enemy and your husband’s enemy.” 

“ I have somewhat also to forgive,” said Alecia 
very softly. “ Have you forgotten that I told 
you it would be difficult for me to forgive you 
had you deceived me, Bee ?” 

A tremor in Beatrice’s voice. She leaned 
forward into the light of the window, reaching 
out her hands. 

“ But I did it because I loved you, Alecia. I 
could not believe that you truly could ever love 
that man, and I wished to remove him from 
your life. Wo aid I wound you knowingly, you 
beautiful dear? Have you not had enough 
sprrow in your life ? Have I not put away the 
hate from my heart for this man because of 
you ?” 

“ But your hatred was unjust always, 
Beatrice,” said the sweeter voice, steadily. “ I 
told you from the first that he was an honorable 
man.” 

“ But I believed that you defended him only 
because of your kindly heart,” said her sister, in 


28 o 


John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


a low voice. “ Alecia, would I hurt you will- 
ingly ? I am very proud, too, but I would not 
ever have set up my pride against your happi- 
ness had I known that it was your happiness.” 

Silence between them, eloquent with the call 
of those distant breakers and the cry of a night- 
bird upon the beach. The house was perfectly 
still save for those sounds from without. Then 
Beatrice rose from her chair and went over to 
her sister. Kneeling at her side she took the 
two slim hands within her warm hands, holding 
them closely and with tender recklessness of 
sorrow, her lifted face beautiful in the moonlight 
streaming through the window. 

“Alecia! Alecia!” she said, bitterly. “My 
sister, look right down into my soul and see that 
there remains not one atom of hatred there, not 
one thought that is not kind, not one wish but 
for your good. If John Winthrop holds the 
power to grant you the happiness that you 
deserve, if he loves you as you should be loved, 
if he has descended from his heights of arro- 
gance and pride to acknowledge that there are 
purity and goodness and truth in a woman’s 
heart, then John Winthrop shall have the right 


Grain from Chaff. 


281 


to win your love and make your happiness ! 
While I cried out against your softness of heart, 
was I not cruelly hard ? I, claiming the ten- 
derness of womanhood! Would I not have 
crushed my own heart in my pride and unfor- 
giveness ? Alecia ! Alecia ! Here, with my 
heart bare to you, see that I meant only love !” 

Alecia stooped very tenderly and pressed her 
smiling lips to the mouth of the girl. 

“ Dear little Bee !” she said. “ Always my 
brave girl ! Could I doubt your love, when only 
you have thought of me?” 

Tender silence again between them. The 
lifted face and the down-bent face touched with 
the night’s light and softness. Then, the sound 
of light feet in the passage, a moment’s pause, and 
the door was flung wide open without warning^ 
and into the room full in the glory of moonlight, 
with loosened hair and trailing dress and white 
face, came Jessica Gray with her eyes of fire. 

Beatrice shrank down beside Alecia ; but 
Alecia did not move. 

“ So !” murmured the liquid voice. “ So ! 
But Mrs. Graham has courage to brave her heart 


2 8 2 John Winthrop' s Defeat . 


and her pride and yield her love to the man who 
was once her husband’s murderer !” 

An answering- flame in Alecia’s eyes and in her 
quiet face, but her voice was sweet and low and 
perfectly steady. 

“ Miss Gray herself is daring,” she said. 
“May I ask what she may mean by her words ?” 

Jessica laughed scornfully, flinging out her 
hands with a gesture of passion. 

“ Has the new love eradicated old memories 
so soon ?” she asked. “ Is it not Mrs. Graham’s 
new lover who murdered the old ?” 

“Your words are exaggerated, Miss Gray,” 
said Alecia, a touch of coldness creeping into her 
voice. “ No one murdered my husband as you 
so recklessly state. And what has Miss Gray 
to do with my life of the past or future ?” 

“Then she lied!” cried Jessica fiercely, with 
a movement of her hands toward the girl still 
kneeling beside her sister. “ I heard her say it 
myself ! It was in France. She said it openly. 
Upon the station platform she said that John 
Winthrop murdered your husband, and that she 
hated him for it — and that you hated him for 
it!” 


Grain from Chaff, 


283 


“ And was Miss Gray acting- as eaves-dropper ?” 
queried Alicia, steadily, her eyes never moving 
from the flaming face. “ How else should she 
have heard what was not intended for her, and 
what she could not comprehend !” 

“ And I did not lie !” cried Beatrice., starting 
to her feet in swift defiance. “ The leopard 
shows her claws too soon, I think !” 

“ But the leopard can kill sometimes !” cried 
the swift, liquid voice. “ I heard your words, 
Beatrice Field, and I remembered your cruelty 
to his mother, and why should I not believe? 
But I would not tell of your words. 1 would 
hide his crime, I said, if it were crime ! And, 
after all, you sit there facing me, and love him !” 

“ And shall I account to Miss Gray for it?” 
queried Alecia, in her cold, steady voice. 

“ I hate you !” cried the girl, passionately, with 
a gesture of her excited hands. “ I hate you 
both — I hate you all, even her, with her quiet 
speech — his mother — for she kept me still when I 
am going away to-morrow. I could not breathe 
the same atmosphere with you — it would stifle 
me, strangle me, kill me ! I am going away, but 


284 


John Winthrof s Defeat. 


I came to-night to tell you my hate ! What has 
he to do longer with my life ?” 

She flung out her hands as though to fling 
far from her this scene and memory and pain, and 
turned noiselessly and left the room, the door 
swinging softly behind her. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
defeated indeed. 

As man may, he fought his fight, 

Proved his truth by his endeavor. 

The dark-eyed saints look down. 

— George H. Boker . 

Untroubled : 

Love yet remains, its rosary of good deeds 

Counting. 

— Whittier . 

The lilac of sunset over the world, struck here 
and there with gold, where the last rays lifted 
above the horizon and lay like a benediction 
upon the shimmering track on the water, across 
which a sail passing caught snow-light upon it 
from the glory. 

The old group of friends were gathered in the 


Defeated Indeed. 


285 


pavilion around Alecia Graham and John Win- 
throp. Some were sitting upon the benches 
ranged across the floor, others, less thoughtful 
of appearances, chose the steep steps leading to 
the sands as giving better opportunity of watch- 
ing the sunset effects on the ocean and cloud. 
All were chatting in an undertone as though the 
quiet scene touched them into reverence. 

“ How strangely the mist creeps in from the 
sea as soon as the sun sets !” said Alecia. She 
spoke only to her companion, and he bent beside 
her, his pride in her glowing in his steady eyes. 

He was very pale and still weak from that 
long illness, but daily new strength was return- 
ing, as though his happiness gave new life when 
all else failed. 

He smiled now into her lifted eyes. Words 
were scarcely necessary between them, and long 
silence sometimes fell ere one replied to the 
other. 

“ It is strange,” he said slowly, “ but it seems 
to me, Alecia, that my sun has only just risen 
and no mists threaten its peace.” 

“ That is pretty,” said Alecia, laughing, “but 
not practical, John. I wonder at you sometimes. 


286 John Winthrop' s Defeat. 


You are so different than I thought. You know 
I used to think — ” 

“ Well ?” as she paused, his eyes very steadily 
upon her face. 

She was looking across the water to the dis- 
tant sails, now softly darkening in the twilight? 
and a wistfulness was on her face that brought 
an added tenderness to his. With sudden fierce- 
ness, he bent nearer her. 

“ Whatever you thought,” he said, vehemently, 
his voice startling her, “ what does it matter 
now, my dearest? Alecia Graham, only Heaven 
knows how I love you !” 

By and by, she said softly, as though follow- 
ing out the line of thought wakened by watch- 
ing the distant ships : 

“ The longer one lives the more sure comes 
the knowledge that we can change not one inch 
the fulfilling of life’s plans. We say, in our 
pride, that such and such shall come, and find, 
as the days go by, that only the mills of God 
grind steadily, John, and exceedingly fine.” 

“ But always,” said John Winthrop, rev- 
erently, drawing her eyes from the darkening 
sails by the steady power of his gaze, “ always 


Defeated Indeed, 


287 


with infinite justice, dearest, and beyond the 
reach of human comprehension or hate or pride, 
so bringing the best of life’s good in what 
seemed perhaps to us but humiliating defeat — 
as 1 was defeated.” 

“ And, perhaps,” added Alecia, gravely, after 
a long silence, her chin resting in her hand, her 
elbow upon the back of the bench, her eyes still 
searching for the sails in the tender darkness, “ as 
I was defeated, too, John ! May not a woman’s 
injustice be sometimes as cruel as a man’s?” 

But John Winthrop would not answer. 


THE END. 


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